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ORACLES   FROM  THE   POETS. 


1  am  Sir  Oracle, 
And  when  I  ope  my  lips  let  no  dog  bark. 

ilerckant  of  Fenice. 


.55 


i  > 


ORACLES  FROM  THE   POETS. 


1  am  Sir  Oracle, 
And  when  I  ope  my  lips  let  no  dog  bark. 

MercharU  of  Venice. 


Frontispiece. 


'Thitie  is  the  heart  that  is  gentle  and  kind." 

Oracles  from  The  rotr?,  p  48. 


o>[im 


'c 


ORACLES  FROM  THE  POETS: 


A  FANCIFUL   DIVERSION 


THE      DRAWING-ROOM 


CAROLINE   GILMAN. 


The  enthusiast  Sybil  there  divinely  taught. 
Writes  on  loose  fohage  inspiration's  thought. 
She  sings  the  fates,  and  in  her  frantic  fits 
The  notes  and  names  inscribed  to  leaves  commits. 

Dry  den's  and  Si/mmon's  Virgil. 

Macbeth.  I  conjure  you,  by  that  which  you  profess, 

(Howe'er  you  come  to  know  it,)  answer  me. 
first  Witch.  Speak. 
SecoTid  Witch.  Demand. 
Third  Witch.  We'll  answer. 


PHILADELPHIA :  \ 

H.  C.  PECK   &   THEO.   BLISS.  \ 

1853. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  CongresB,  in  the  year  1844, 

By  WILEV  &  PUTNAM. 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Soathem 

District  of  New  York. 


Stereotyped  by 

RICHARD  C.  VALENTINE. 

45  Gold-Btreet,  New  York. 


«      •    • 
•     «     • 


Id 


'cl"'    <•'     '''    '' 


*  *     »    •  *      »  •■ 

'   »  I  »     «    • 

•  »    t    t  . 


«       « 


X 


THE  FOLLOWING  PAGES, 
ORIGINALLY  INTENDED  FOR  THEIR  AMUSEMENT, 


iAB  rSDICATED  TO 


MY  CHILDREN. 


PREFACE. 


WAS  led  to  arrange  "  The  Ora- 
LEs  FROM  THE  PoETs,"  by  observ- 
ing the  vivid  interest  taken  by- 
persons  of  all  ages  in  a  very  com- 
mon-place Fortune-Teller  in  the 
hands  of  a  young  girl.  It  occur- 
red to  me  that  I  might  avail  myself  of  this  love 
of  the  mysterious,  for  the  intellectual  enjoyment  of 
my  family  circle. 

Instead,  however,  of  the  pastime  of  a  few  days, 
it  has  been  the  work  of  every  leisure  moment  for 
six  months.  The  first  movement  was  the  pebble 
thrown  into  the  stream ;  circle  after  circle  formed, 
until  I  found,  with  old  Thomas  Heywood, 

"  My  pen  was  dipt 
As  well  in  opening  each  hid  manuscript, 
As  tracts  more  vulgar,  whether  read  or  sung 
In  our  domestic  or  more  foreign  tongue." 

How  rich  these  six  months  have  been  in  the 
purest  and  highest  enjoyment,  1  will  not  stop  to 
say ;  but  to  be  allowed  to  float  in  such  an  atmo- 
sphere, buoyed  up  with  the  sweetest  sympathies 
of  friends,  may  be  conceived  to  be  no  common 
happiness.  And  now,  with  the  hope  of  commu- 
nicating a  portion  of  this  pleasure  more  exten- 


^ 


Si 


\ 


i 

i  8 


sively,  I  yield  this  volume  up  as  a  public  offering, 
for  the  advancement  of  those  rational  social  en-  \ 
joyments    which   seem  to  belong  to   the   moral  | 
<  movement  of  the  age.  \ 

\      I  do  not  know  how  far  early  associations  may  | 
I  have  influenced  me,  but  I  distinctly  recollect  the  > 
first'Oracle  of  my  childhood.    At  the  age  of  eight  I 
I  years  I  attended  a  female  seminary  in  a  village. 
\  The  classes  were  allowed  a  half  hour  for  recrea- 
tion, and  they  usually  played  on  the  green  within 
j  view  of  the  academy  building.     One  day  I  ob- 
l  served  a  group  of  girls  of  the  senior  class  pass  , 
?  beyond  the  bounds  and  enter  the  church,  which  < 
i  was  opened  for  some  approaching  occasional  ser-  I 
i  vice.     I  followed  quietly.     They  walked  through  [ 
\  the  aisle  with  agitated  whispers,  and  ascended  to  ? 
;  the  pulpit.     Then  each,  in  turn,  opening  the  large  ^ 
\  Bible,  laid  a  finger,  with  closed  eyes,  on  a  verse,  ^ 
\  and  read  it  aloud,  as  indicating  her  fate  or  char-  ■ 
5  acter. 

I      I  well  remember  the  eagerness  with  which  I  I 

listened  on  the  stairs,  for  I  was  afraid  to  crowd  ; 

into  the  pulpit  with  the  big  girls.    As  they  retired,  ; 

I  entered.     I  can  recall  the  timid  feeling  with  | 

\  which  I  glanced  round  the  shadowy  building,  the  j 

\  awe  with  which  I  closed  my  eyes  and  placed  my  I 

small  finger  on  the  broad  page,  and  the  faith  with  | 

{  which  I  read  mv  Oracle.  l 


\  ; 


9  I 

I  must  make  an  early  apology  for  venturmg  to  ] 

alter  the  tenses  of  authors  so  as  to  conform  to  ', 

5 


answers.     I  tried  the  method  of  literal  extracts,  \ 

but  they  were  deficient  in  spirit  and  directness.  '; 

I  can  now  only  warn  my  readers  not  to  quote  the  \ 

Oracles  habitually,  as  exact  transcripts,  but  resort  ^ 

to  the  originals.     I  have  trembled  as  if  it  were  I 

sacrilege  to  turn  thus  the  streams  of  Helicon  into  I 

this  little  channel,  but  I  hope  the  evil  may  be  ^ 

balanced  by  the  increased  acquaintance  of  many  J 

with  slighted  authors.  i 

I  have  not  allowed  myself  to  select  from  period-  I 

icals,  though  American  journals  contain  perhaps  | 

\  more  favorable  specimens  of  our  literature  than  \ 

the  published  volumes  to  which  I  have  felt  bound  | 

I  to  confine  myself. 

\  My  selections  have  extended  so  far  beyond  the 
limits  of  my  plan,  that  I  propose  furnishing  an- 
I  other  volume,  in  the  course  of  the  year,  with  ad-  ^ 
i  ditional  questions,  including  translations  from  I 
\  popular  authors.  One  question  in  the  present  i 
\  volume.  To  what  have  you  a  distaste  or  aversion  ?  j 
\  is,  I  think,  nearly  exhausted,  while  its  opposite,  j 
What  gratifies  your  taste  or  affections  ?  presents  I 
\  still  an  ample  field  for  gleaning.  Will  this  fur-  \ 
\  nish  any  argument  against  those  ascetics,  who  J 
I  think  misery  preponderates  over  happiness  '  One  < 

i  fanciful  question  in  the  succeeding  volume  will  \ 

<  < 


\  10  i 

C  f 

be,  What  is  the  name  of  your  Lady-love  ?  and  an-  \ 
other,  Of  him  who  loves  you  ?  \ 

I  shall  consider  with  respectful  attention  friend-  \ 
ly  suggestions  made  to  me  directly,  or  through  my  i 
publishers,  preparatory  to  the  arrangement  of  an-  '< 
other  volume,  particularly  in  bringing  to  view  | 
any  poet,  who,  by  accident,  may  have  escaped  ^ 
^  attention.  i 

\      I  have  been  urged  to  communicate,  in  a  preface,  < 
the  literary  results  which  have  necessarily  flow-  | 
ed  from  the  examination  and  comparison  of  such  - 
a  mass  of  poets,  but  the  task  is  beyond  the  limits 
of  this  humble  effort.     It  would,  indeed,  be  a  rich 
field  for  a  Schlegel  or  De  Stael.  '- 

A  few  curious  speculations,  however,  may  pre-  j 
sent  themselves  to  the  most  superficial  critic.  In  < 
Shakspeare,  for  instance,  so  affluent  in  various  \ 
delineations  of  character  and  personal  appear-  I 
ance,  I  looked  in  vain  for  places  of  residence.  1 
I  There  seemed  not  to  be  even  a  fair  proportion  of  \ 
I  passages  descriptive  of  musical  sounds,  hours,  i 
I  seasons,  and  (except  in  The  Winter's  Tale)  of  | 
\  flowers.  \ 

\  In  Wordsworth,  scarcely  a  flower  or  musical  \ 
I  sound  is  described.  They  are  alluded  to,  but  not  I 
)  painted   out.      The    poetry    of    Crabbe,    though  < 

^  ^ 

\  abounding  in  numerous  characters,  could  surren-  ] 

\  der  almost  none  for  my  purpose,  on  account  of  \ 

i  5 

y. 


11  I 

their  being  woven  into  the  general  strain  of  his  \ 
narratives.  Shelley,  Landon,  and  Howitt,  are  | 
eminently  the  poets  of  flowers,  while  Darwin, 
I  with  a  whole  Botanic  Garden  before  him,  and 
Mason,  in  his  English  Garden,  gave  me,  I  think, 
none  that  I  conceived  fairly  entitled  to  selection. 
Few  passages  of  any  sort,  except  those  hack- 
neyed into  adages,  could  be  gained  from  Milton, 
on  account  of  the  abstract,  lofty,  and  continuous 
flow  of  his  diction.  Coleridge  has  corresponding 
peculiarities. 

Keats  and  Shelley  are  the  poets  of  the  heav- 
ens. Byron,  with  faint  exceptions,  does  not  de- 
scribe a  flower,  or  musical  sound,  or  place  of 
residence. 

The   American   poets,  in  contradistinction  to  \ 

their  elder  and  superior  brethren  of  the  father-  j 

land,  display  a  more  marked  devotion  to  nature,  | 

with  which  a  continual  glow  of  religious  senti-  ; 

ment  aptly  harmonizes.  < 

But  I  am  recalled  by  these  lengthening  para-  \ 

graphs  to  my  disclaimer,  and  only  wish  that  an  | 

abler  and  more  philosophical  pen  than  mine  could  ■> 

\  take  my  recent  experience.  \ 

\      After  a  close  examination  of  the  earlier  dra-  \ 

\  matic  poets,  though  I  have  rescued  from  them  | 

\  some  exquisite  gems,  it  seems  to  me  -far  from  de-  < 

\  sirable  that  they  should  be  brought  forward  as  j 


12 

prominently  as  many  of  their  wordy  commenta- 
tors desire.     A  kind  of  pure  instinct  in  the  British  | 
taste  has  placed  Shakspeare  without  a  brother  on  | 
the  throne.    The  fathers  of  dramatic  poetry  acted  \ 
according  to  their  light,  but  it  was  not  the  "  true  \ 
light,"     A  few  relics,  selected  with  caution,  may 
I  honor  their  memory,  but  we   should  be  careful 
I  while  warning  our  youth  against  the  impurities 
of  some  modern  poets,  how  we  extol  these  vul- 
garities of  a  darker  moral  age. 

Before  parting  I  must  ask  clemency  for  classing 
all  my  authors  among  Poets,  that  great  word  so 
}  deservedly  sacred,  and  to  which  I  bow  with  deep 
reverence  ;  but  the  Parnassus  of  my  Oracles  has 
many  steps,  and  I  cannot  but  feel  kindly  towards 
those,  who  sit  gracefully  even  on  the  lower  plat- 
form, nor  apprehend  that  they  will  do  more  than 
look  up  deferentially  to  the  laurel-crowned  wor- 
thies at  its  summit.     Besides,  it  has  been  the 
character   of  my   taste,  or   perhaps   philosophy,  \ 
i  whenever    literally   or   figuratively   I    gather    a  J 
I  wreath  of  flowers,  to  twine  the  wild  blossom  as  < 
I  heartily  as  the  exotic,  and  even  insert  a  weed,  if 
\  its  color  or  contrast  lends  beauty  to  the  combina- 
\  tion  ; — and  thus  with  my  Oracles. 


n- 

\ 


CATALOGUE    OF   AUTHORS 


QUOTED    IN    THE    ORACLES. 


ENGLISH. 

Aeenside 

Cibber 

Addison 

Cunningham 

Cook 

Bloomfield 

Coleridge 

BOWRINO 

Crabbe 

Bayley 

Cornwall 

Barbauld 

Cumberland 

Burns 

Chaucer 

Beattie 

Coleman 

Byron 

Clare 

Bowles 

Churchill 

Baillie 

Carrington 

Barton 

Crashaw 

Browne 

• 

Butler 

Dryden 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher 

Darwin 

Croly 

Elliott 

CoWPER 

Carew 

Ferguson 

Cowley 

Falconer 

Collins 

Congreve 

Gray 

Campbell 

Goldsmith 

Chatterton 

Gay 

s 


X' 


GiSBORNE 

Grahame 

HoWITT 

Hemans 

Home 

Habington 

Hunt 

Hogg 

Hayley 

Hammond 

Hastings 

Herbert 

Hood 


14 


More 

Mason 

Murphy 

Massinger 

Milman 

Montgomert 

Mackenzie 

Macauly 

MacNeil 

Maturin 

Norton 

OSSIAN 


King  James 
Johnson 
Jones 
Jonson 

Keats 
Kemble 

Landon 
Lee 
Lamb 
Lyttleton 

Miller 

Motherwell 

Massinger 

Moore 

Milton 

MlTFORD 


POLLOK 

Pope 
Prior 

POMFRET 

Percy's  Relkiues 

Ramsay 
RowE 

Rogers 
RoscoE 

Shelley 

Shakspeare 

Southey 

Sheridan 

Spenser 

SOTHEBY 

Sterling 
Shenstone 


Sf 


.s? 


JC" — 

■Vj«i/N^^^\/Ni'^>S.'^rv^./N>N/«.y\,^,>S/\/VyN 

15 

■vr^^^,|^-«-«-»^. '\/v/v/*uis.»^/N./\^  jN.'Vt./V^ 

Swift 
Scott 

Vaux 

Smith 

Wordsworth 

\ 

SOMERVILLE 

Wilson 
Williams 

Taylor,  John 

White 

Tennent 

Wotton 

Thomson 

Warton 

TiGHE 

Watts 

Talfourd 

Wolcott 

Tennyson 

Webster 

TOBIN 

5 

Taylor 

YOONO 

, 

Thom 

AMERICAN 

! 

Aldrich 

Dana,  Mrs. 

•> 

RdV  AWP 

Davidson,  M. 

Hani      P     W 

Brooks 

bclfinch 

Benjamin 

Burleigh 

Bancroft 

Brain  ARD 


Drake 
Dawes 
Davidson,  L. 
Dinnses 
Dickson 

DOANE 


Charlton 

Clark 

Carey 

CoxK 

Cranch 

Child 

Crafts 


Embury 
Emerson 

Ellet 

FOLLEN 

Fairfield 
Fay 


«. 


^ 


16 


■7i 


Gallagher 
Gould 

GiLMAN,  S. 

Goodrich 

GiLMAN,  C. 

Greene 

Holmes 

Hill 

Harvey 

Halleck 

Hillhouse 

Hale 

HoSMER 

Harrington 

James 

Lee 

Longfellow 
Lowell 
Lewis 

LUNT 

McLellan 

Morris 

Mellen 

Moise 

Miller 

Neal 

Noble 

Nack 


Osgood 

Percival 

Peters 

PlERPONT 

Prentice 

Peabody 

Pierson 

Pike 

Payne 

Smith 
Street 

SiMMS 

Sargent 

Sands 

Sigodrney 

Spragde 

Scott 

Tuckerman 

Willis 

Whittier 

Ware,  H. 

Wells 

Welby 

Ware,  Mrs. 

Wilde 

Whitman 

Wilcox 

Woodwortii 


». 


.>! 


i 


i 


^HE  Game  of  the  Oracles  is  composed  of  the  fol-  ! 
lowing  fourteen  Questions,  with  sixty  Answers  > 
each,  numbered.  \ 

What  is  your  character  1 — Gentleman.  Page  21     ; 

What  is  your  character  1 — Lady.  "      35    \ 

What  is  the  personal  appearance  of  your  lady-love  1    "      51 

What  is  the  personal  appearance  of  him  who  loves  5 

you] 

What  is  the  character  of  your  lady-love  1 

What  is  the  character  of  him  who  loves  you  ? 

What  season  of  the  year  do  you  love  1 

What  hour  do  you  love  1 

What  musical  sounds  do  you  love  1 

What  is  your  favorite  flower  1 

What  gratifies  your  taste  or  affections  1 

For  what  have  you  a  distaste  or  aversion  ? 
I  Where  or  what  will  be  your  residence  1 
I  What  is  your  destiny  ? 


(( 

69 

(( 

83 

t( 

97  1 

S 

(( 

111  i 

(( 

129 

(( 

147  i 

(1 

IGl  i 
175 

(( 

193 

(C 

209 

(I 

227  ; 

J 

^'  ' B 2* 


> 


DIRECTIONS 

FOR   THE    GAVE    OF    THE    OEACLES   FROM    THE    POETS. 


FOR   A    FORTUNE-TELLER   WITH   TWO   PERSONS. 

The  person  who  holds  the  book  asks,  for  instance,  What  is 
your  character  ■?  The  individual  questioned  selects  any  one 
of  the  sixty  answers  under  that  head,  say  No.  3,  and  the 
questioner  reads  aloud  the  answer  No.  3,  which  will  be  the 
Oracle. 

FOR    A    ROUND    GAME. 

Where  there  are  more  than  six  persons  present,  it  will  be  > 

well  to  select  the  following  questions,  as  the  game,  connected  i 

with  the  discussions  to  which  it  will  probably  give  rise,  will  \ 

be  too  protracted  by  introducing  the  whole,  and  the  remaining  I 

questions  are  of  a  sentimental  rather  than  personal  class.  I 

What  is  your  character  1 — Gentleman.  Page  21     5 

What  is  your  character  1 — Lady.  "      35    I 

What  is  the  personal  appearance  of  your  lady-  i 

love'?  "      51 

What  is  the  personal  appearance  of  him  who 

loves  you  1  "      69 

What  is  the  character  of  your  lady-love  ?  "      83 

What  is  the  character  of  him  who  loves  you  1  "      97 

Where  or  what  will  be  your  place  of  residence  1       "    209 
"V^liat  is  your  destiny  1  "    227     \ 


\  20 

< 

:  A  questioner  having  been  selected,  he  calls  on  each  indi- 
l  vidual  to  choose  a  nunaber  under  the  question  proposed,  and 
\  reads  each  answer  aloud  as  the  number  is  mentioned.  If  the 
\  party  agree  to  the  arrangement,  the  author  of  the  Oracle  can 
i  be  demanded  by  the  questioner,  and  a  forfeit  paid  in  case  of 
I  ignorance,  or  a  premium  given  for  a  correct  answer. 
5  If  the  person  whose  Oracle  is  read  cannot  tell  the  author, 
i  any  one  of  the  party  may  be  allowed  a  tr.ial  in  turn,  and  re- 
<  ceive  the  premium. 


WHAT    IS     YOUR    CHARACTER? 


(&ISE5rS'I£i31MAMc 


All  our  knowledge  is  ourselves  to  know. 

Oh,  wad  some  power  the  giftie  gie  us, 
To  see  oursels  as  others  see  us  ; 
It  wad  frae  monle  a  blunder  free  us 
And  foolish  notion  1 


Pope. 


K 


Burns. 


WHAT    IS    YOUR   CHARACTER? 


OU  kiss  not  where  you  wish  to  kill, 
You  feign  not  love  where  most  you  hate, 
You  break  no  sleep  to  win  your  will, 
You  wait  not  at  the  mighty's  gate. 

Lord  Vaux. 


2.  E'en  your  failings  lean  to  virtue's  side. 

Goldsmith 

3.  Polite,  yet  virtuous,  you  have  brought  away 
The  manners,  not  the  morals  of  the  day. 

COWPER. 

4.  Thou  art  slow  to  science  ;  the  chart  and  letter'd  page 
Have  in  them  no  deep  spell  whereby  thy  spirit  to 

engage ; 
But  rather  thou  wouldst  sail  thy  boat,  or  sound  thy 

bugle-horn, 
Or  track  the  sportsman's  triumph  through  the  fields 

of  waving  corn, 
Than  o'er  the  ponderous  histories  of  other  ages  bend,  \ 
Or  dwell  upon  the  sweetest  page  that  ever  poet  penn'd.  J 

Mrs.  Norton.  > 


SS 


i  24  i 

\  I 

>'  5.  A  spider  you  may  best  be  liken'd  to, 

Which  creature  is  an  adept,  not  alone 

In  workmanship  of  nice  geometry, 

But  is  beside  a  wary  politician. 


Taylor. 


6.  I  know  thee  brave, — 

A  counsellor  subtle,  and  a  leader  proved, — 
With  wisdom  fitting  for  a  king's  right  hand ; 
Firm  in  resolve,  nor  from  thy  purpose  moved  : 
Then  what  lack'st  thou  to  render  thee  beloved  ? 
Thou'st  wooed  and  won  a  gentle  heart,  and  more, — 
Hast  trampled  it  to  dust. 

AiXAN  Cunningham. 

J  7.  I  would  rather  wed  a  man  of  dough. 

Such  as  some  school-girl,  when  the  pie  is  made. 
To  amuse  her  childish  fancy,  kneads  at  hazard 
Out  of  the  remnant  paste. 

John  Tobin. 

1.  Thou,  with  a  lofty  soul,  whose  course 
The  thoughtless  oft  condemn. 
Art  touch'd  by  many  airs  from  heaven 

Which  never  breathe  on  them. 
Moved  too  by  many  impulses. 
Which  they  do  never  know, 
Who  round  their  earth-bound  circles  plod 
The  dusty  patlis  below. 

Albert  G.  Greene. 


I  25 

\    9.  You  look  the  whole  world  in  the  face, 

For  you  owe  not  any  man. 

Longfellow. 

}  10.  You  loiter,  lounge,  are  lank  and  lazy, 
I  Though  nothing  ails  you,  yet  uneasy  ; 

\  Your  days  insipid,  dull,  and  tasteless, 

I  Your  nights  unquiet,  long,  and  restless ; 

And  e'en  your  sports  at  balls  and  races, 
Your  galloping  through  public  places. 
Have  sic  parade,  and  pomp,  and  art, 
The  joy  can  scarcely  reach  the  heart. 

Burns — Twa  Dogs. 

\ 

;  U.  Thou'st  never  bent  at  glory's  shrine, 

To  wealth  thou'st  never  bow'd  the  knee, 

\  Beauty  has  heard  no  vows  of  thine, 

\         Thou  lovest  ease. 

R.  H.  Wilde. 

I  12.  A  gentleman  of  all  Tempera iicc. 

I  Measure  for  Measure. 

\  13.  You  are  positive  and  fretful, 

I  Heedless,  ignorant,  forgetful. 

\  Swift. 

14.  There  is  one  rare,  strange  virtue  in  thy  speeches, 
The  secret  of  their  mastery — they're  short. 

Hali  eck. 


I  26  I 

15.  For  contemplation  framed,  \ 
Shy  and  unpractised  in  the  strife  of  phrase, 
Yours  is  the  language  of  the  heavens,  the  power, 
The  thought,  the  image,  and  the  silent  joy. 
Words  are  but  under-agents  in  your  soul. 

Wordsworth. 

16.  You  take  delight  in  others'  excellence, 
A  gift  which  nature  rarely  doth  dispense  ; 
Of  all  that  breathe,  'tis  you,  perhaps,  alone. 
Would  be  well  pleased  to  see  yourself  outdone. 

YouiNG — Epistles. 

17.  You  are  the  Punch  to  stir  up  trouble. 
You  wriggle,  fidge,  and  make  a  riot. 
Put  all  your  brother  puppets  out. 

Swift. 

18.  You'd  shake  hands  with  a  king  upon  his  throne, 
And  think  it  kindness  to  his  majesty. 

Halleck. 

19.  The  meanest  thing,  earth's  feeblest  worm, 

You  fear  to  scorn  or  hate  ; 
But  honor  in  a  peasant's  form 
The  equal  of  the  great. 

Ebenezer  Elliott. 

20.  You  may  be  thrown  among  the  gay  and  reckless 

sons  of  life, 


i.4. 


\  27 


But  will  not  love  the  revel  scene  or  head  the  brawl- 

Eliza  Cook. 


i 


ing  strife. 


21.  You  are  one, 

Who  can  play  off  your  smiles  and  courtesies 
To  every  lady,  of  her  lap-dog  tired, 
Who  wants  a  plaything. 

SOUTHEY. 

5  22.  Come,  rouse  thee  now ; — I  know  thy  mind, 
And  would  its  strength  awaken  ; 
Proud,  gifted,  noble,  ardent,  kind. 

Anna  P.  Dinnies. 

23.  In  choice 
Of  morsels  for  the  body,  nice  are  you, 
And  scrupulous ; — 

And  every  composition  know 

Of  cookery. 

PoLLOK — Course  of  Time. 

24.  A  man  thou  seem'st  of  cheerful  yesterdays. 
And  confident  to-morrows. 

Wordsworth. 

25.  Sir,  I  confess  you  to  be  one  well  read 
In  men  and  manners,  and  that  usually 
The  most  ungovern'd  persons,  you  being  present. 


fl 


28 

Rather  subject  themselves  unto  your  censure, 
Than  give  you  least  occasion  of  distaste, 
By  making  you  the  subject  of  their  mirth. 

Ben  Jonson. 

26.  When  nae  real  ills  perplex  you. 
You  make  enow  yoursel'  to  vex  you. 

Burns. 

27.  You  speak  an  infinite  deal  of  nothing. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

28.  -  Calm,  serene. 
Your  thoughts  are  clear  and  honest,  and  your  words,  \ 
Still  chosen  most  gently,  are  not  yet  disguised  \ 
To  please  the  ear  of  tingling  vanity. 

W.    G.    SIMMS. 


29.  Large  is  your  bounty,  and  your  soul  sincere  ; 
Heaven  does  a  recompense  as  largely  send  : 
\  You  give  to  misery  all  you  have — a  tear  ; 

\  You  gain  from  heaven,  'tis  all  you  ask — a  friend. 

Gray. 


<  30.  You  worship  God  with  inward  zeal,  and  serve  him 
\  in  each  deed  ; 

Yet  will  not  blame  another's  faith,  nor  have  one 
martyr  bleed. 

Eliza  Cook. 


.-?!§ 


9.9 

31.  Silent  when  glad,  affectionate  though  shy; 

And  now  your  look  is  most  demurely  sad  ; 
And  now  you  laugh  aloud,  yet  none  know  why, — 
Some  deem  you  wondrous  wise,  and  some  believe 
you  mad. 

Beattie — Minstrel. 

32.  You  act  upon  the  prudent  plan, 

"  Say  little,  and  hear  all  you  can  :" 
Safe  policy,  but  hateful. 

COWPER. 


^ 


33.  You  arc  a  gentleman  of  excellent  breeding,  admi-   I 

rable  discourse,  generally  allowed  for  your  many 
warlike,  courllike,  and  learned  preparations. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

34.  So  gentle,  yet  so  brisk,  so  wondrous  sweet, 
Just  fit  to  prattle  at  a  lady's  feet. 

Churchill. 

\  3-5.  Lord  of  yourself,  though  not  of  lands, 
You,  having  nothing,  yet  have  all. 

Sir  Henry  Wotton. 

36.  No  change  comes  o'er  thv  noble  brow, 
Though  ruin  is  around  thee  ; 
Thine  eye-beam  burns  as  proudly  now 
As  when  the  laurel  crown'd  thee. 

JIrs.  Chiid 


30 

37.  Some  have  too  much,  yet  still  they  crave  ; 

You  little  have,  yet  seek  no  more  ; 
They  are  but  poor,  though  much  they  have, 

And  you  are  rich  with  little  store. 
They  poor,  you  rich ;  they  beg,  you  give ; 
They  lack,  you  lend ;  they  pine,  you  live. 

Lord  Vaux. 

38.  With  every  shifting  gale  your  course  you  ply, 
Forever  sunk  too  low  or  borne  too  high. 

Pope. 


39.  You  will  not  bow  unto  the  common  thino;s 
Men  make  their  idols.     You  will  stand  apart 
From  common  men  ;  your  sensual  appetite 
Shall  be  subservient  to  your  loftier  soul. 

Mary  Howitt, 

40.  Sloth,  the  nurse  of  vices, 
And  rust  of  action,  is  a  stranger  to  you. 

Massinger. 

41.  The  worth  of  the  three  kingdoms  I  defy 
To  lower  you  to  the  standard  of  a  lie. 

CoWPER. 

42.  I  have  some  comfort  in  this  fellow  ;  I 
He  hath  no  drowning  mark  upon  him ;  his  complexion  ^ 
Is  perfect  gallows.                                                           l 

Tempest.  ^ 


31 

5  43.  You  lacke  no  witte, 

X  You  speke  whatte  bee  the  trouthe, 

^  And  whatte  all  see  is  ryghte. 

s  Rowley — {Chatterton.) 


X  44.  A  man  resolved  and  steady  to  his  trust, 

\  Inflexible  to  ill,  and  obstinately  just. 

\  Dr.  Watts. 


^  45.  I  know  thy  generous  temper  well  ; 
\  Fling  but  the  appearance  of  dishonor  on  it, 

<  It  straight  takes  fire,  and  mounts  into  a  blaze. 

Addison—  Cato. 


46.  Just  like  a  snail  through  life's  dull  path  you  creep, 
Your  whole  existence  but  a  waking  sleep. 

R.  M.  Charlton. 

47.  Your  nature  is, 
That  you  incline  to  hope  rather  than  fear, 
And  gladly  banish  squint  suspicion. 

Milton — Comus. 


48.  A  right  tender  heart. 


\ 


Melting  and  easy,  yielding  to  impression, 

rom  each  nev 
RowE — Jane  Sfiore. 


And  catcliinor  the  soft  flame  from  each  new  beautv. 


>  49.  The  ruby  lip,  the  sparkling  eye, 
I  All  unavailing  prove  ; 


32 

Wandering  from  fair  to  fair  you  fly, 
But  will  not  learn  to  love. 

Dr.  S.  H.  Dickson. 

50.  Never  credit  me,  if  I  don't  think  thee  more  stupid, 

yea,  more  obtusely,  intensely,  and  impenetrably 
thick-skulled,  than  ever  man  or  woman  was  be-   \ 
fore  thee. 

Fanny  Kemble — Star  of  Seville. 

51.  Some  deem  you  are  a  surly  man, 

But  they  know  not  your  griefs  and  fears. 
How  you  have  been  beloved  by  one. 
Whose  image  lies  "too  deep  for  tears." 

Thomas  Miller. 

52.  One  charm. 
We  in  your  graceful  character  observe  ; 
That  though  your  passions  burn  with  high  impa- 
tience. 

And  sometimes,  from  a  noble  heat  of  nature, 
Are  ready  to  fly  oflf,  yet  the  least  check 
Of  ruling  reason  brings  them  back  to  temper, 
And  gentle  softness. 


Thomson — Tancred  and  Sigismunda. 


53.  You  are  the  fellow  at  the  chimney  corner, 
Who  keeps  the  fire  alive  that  warms  us  all. 

Fanny  Kemble. 


S* 


33  I 

54.  You  love,  and  would  be  loved  again  ;  i 
Do  but  confess  it; — you  possess  a  soul, 
That  what  it  wishes,  wishes  ardently. 
You  would  believe  you  hated,  had  you  power 
To  love  with  moderation. 

HiLX. — Zara. 

\  55.  A  soul 

<  Too  great,  too  just,  too  noble  to  be  happy. 

\  Gibber — Zimena. 

t 

> 

I  56.  Though  straiter  bounds  your  fortune  docs  confine,  \ 

\          In  your  large  heart  is  found  a  wealthy  mine.  \ 

>                                                                                      Waller.  I 

I  I 

57.  Your  heart  has  settled  in  a  sea  of  pride,  ^ 
Till  every  part  is  cold  and  petrified.  \ 

Miss  H.  F.  Gould.  \ 

'> 

\ 

58.  Your  mirth  is  the  pure  spirits  of  various  wit,  > 
Yet  never  doth  your  God  or  friends  forget ;  '' 
And  when  deep  talk  and  wisdom  come  in  view,  \ 
Retires,  and  gives  to  them  their  due.  \ 

)                                                                                     Cowley.  < 

?  ■» 

>  \ 

i.  59.                                  You  are  young,  and  of  \ 

\          That  mould  which  throws  out  heroes;  fair  in  favor,  i 

I         And  doubtlessly,  with  such  a  form  and  heart,  < 

\         Would  look  into  the  fiery  eyes  of  war.  | 

I                                                                         Byron — Werner.  \ 


s^- 


34 

60.  Calm  as  evening  skies 

Is  your  pure  mind,  and  lighted  up  with  hopes 

Tliat  open  heaven. 

Thomson — Tancred  and  Sigismunda. 


a 


WHAT    IS     YOUR     CHARACTER? 


Nevill. — Know'st  thou  how  slight  a  thing  a  woman  is? 
ScuDMORE. — Yes  ;  and  liow  serious  too. 

Nathaniel  Field — 
Woman'n  a  Weathercock.     A  Comedy. 
rrom  Lamb's  Specimens  of  Old  Dramutic  Poels. 


X — 


WHAT    IS    YOUR   CHARACTER? 


LAOY. 


a;^^  ONE  know  thee  but  to  love  thee, 
■^,.  None  name  thee  but  to  praise. 

Halleck. 

2.  Oh,  thou   wilt  ever  be   what   now 
thou  art, 
*~>  Nor  unbeseem  the  promise  of  thy  spring ; 
pv^P"    As  fair  in  form,  as  warm,  yet  pure  in  heart, 
^^^^     Love's  image  upon  earth  without  its  sting. 
T~%»  By-ron. 

3.  Ever  o'er  thy  soul  a  shadow  lies, 

Still  darkest,  when  life  wears  the  sunniest  skies  ; 
And  even  when  with  bliss  thy  heart  beats  high, 
The  swell  subsides  into  a  plaintive  sigh. 

Mrs.  Pierson. 


4.  Sometimes  will  you  laugh,  and  sometimes  cry, 
Then  sudden  you  wax  wroth,  and  all  you  know  not 
why. 


Thomson. 


I 
^ 


449765 


I. 

38 

5.  Thou  doest  little  kindnesses, 

Which  most  leave  undone  or  despise  ; 
For  naught  that  sets  one  heart  at  ease, 
And  giveth  happiness  or  peace. 

Is  low  esteemed  in  thy  eyes. 

James  R.  Lowell. 

6.  Thou  art  merry  and  free, 

Thou  carest  for  naebody, 
If  naebody  care  for  thee. 

Burns. 

7.  Women  love  you.  that  you  are  a  woman 
More  worth  than  any  man ;  men,  that  you  are 
The  rarest  of  all  women. 

Winter's  Tale. 

\  8.  Not  only  good  and  kind, 

^  But  strong  and  elevated  is  thy  mind ; 

\  A  spirit  that  with  noble  pride 

5  Can  look  superior  down 

I  On  fortune's  smile  or  frown  ; 

\  That  can,  without  regret  or  pain, 

I  To  virtue's  lowest  duty  sacrifice. 

5  Lord,  Lyttleton. 

5  9.   At  table  you  are  scrupulous  withal  ; 

No  morsel  from  your  lips  do  you  let  fall, 
Nor  in  your  sauce  will  dip  your  fingers  deep. 
Well  can  you  carry  a  morsel,  and  well  keep, 


39 

That  not  a  drop  e'er  falls  upon  your  breast. 

In  courtesy  your  pleasure  much  doth  rest. 

Your  dainty  upper  lip  you  wipe  so  clean, 

That  in  your  cup  there  is  no  farthing  seen 

Of  grease,  when  you  have  drunk ;  and  for  your  meat, 

Full  seemly  bend  you  forward  on  your  seat. 

CnAUCER. 


10.  You  have  a  natural,  wise  sincerity, 
A  simple  truthfulness ; 

And  though  yourself  not  unacquaint  with  care, 
Have  in  your  heart  wide  room. 

James  R.  Lowell. 


\ 


11.  What  you  do 

Still  betters  what  is  done ;  when  you  speak,  sweet, 
We'd  have  vou  do  it  ever. 

Winter's  Tale. 


12.  An  inward  light  to  guide  thee. 
Unto  thy  soul  is  given, 
Pure  and  serene  as  its  divine 


Original  in  heaven. 


.Tames  Aldrich. 


i 


;  13.  You  have  no  gift  at  aU.  in  shrewishness, 

i  You  are  a  right  woman  for  your  cowardice. 

\  Midsurmner  Night's  Dream. 


40 

14.  The  world  has  won  thee,  lady,  and  thy  joys 
Are  placed  in  trifles,  fashions,  follies,  toys. 

Crabbe 

15.  Mishap  goes  o'er  thee  like  a  summer  cloud  ; 
Cares  thou  hast  none,  and  they  who  stand  to  hear 

thee, 
Catch  the  infection  and  forget  their  own. 

Rogers — Italy. 

16.  Nature  for  her  favorite  child, 

In  thee  hath  temper'd  so  her  clay, 
That  every  hour  thy  heart  runs  wild, 
Yet  never  once  doth  go  astray. 

Wordsworth. 

17.  Your  only  labor  is  to  kill  the  time. 
And  labor  dire  it  is,  and  weary  wo  ; 
You  sit,  you  loll,  turn  o'er  some  idle  rhyme, 
Then  rising,  sudden  to  the  glass  you  go. 

Thomson. 

18.  You  will  die  if love  you  not ;  and  you  will 

die  ere  you  make  your  love  known  ;  and  you  will 
die  if  he  woo  you,  rather  than  abate  one  breath 
of  your  crossness. 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

19.  It  cannot  bend  thy  lofty  brow. 

Though  friends  and  foes  depart, 


41 

The  car  of  fate  may  o'er  thee  roll, 
Nor  crush  thy  Roman  heart. 

Mrs.  Child. 


20.  You  wash,  wring,  brew,  bake,  scour,  dress  meat 
<  and  drink,  make  the  beds,  and  do  all  yourself. 

i  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor 

1  21.  To  tend 

> 

I  From  good  to  better — thence  to  best. 

Grateful  you  drink  life's  cup,  then  bend 

Unmurmuring  to  your  bed  of  rest ; 
You  pluck  the  flowers  that  around  you  blow. 
Scattering  their  fragrance  as  you  go. 

Bo  WRING. 

22.  Rich  in  love 
And  sweet  humanity,  you  will  be  yourself, 
To  the  degree  that  you  desire,  beloved. 

Wordsworth 

23.  You  little  care  what  others  do, 

And  wlicre  they  go,  and  what  they  say ; 
Your  bliss  all  inward,  and  your  own,. 
Would  only  tarnish 'd  be  by  being  shown. 
The  talking,  restless  world  shall  see. 
Spite  of  the  world,  you'll  happy  be ; 

But  none  shall  know, 

How  much  you  are  so, 

Save  only  Love. 
J  Mrs.  Barbacld. 


'% 


42 


24.  Scared  at  thy  frown,  abash'd  will  fly 
5  Self-pleasing  folly's  idle  brood, 

I  Wild  laughter,  noise,  and  thoughtless  joy, 
\  And  leave  thee  leisure  to  be  good. 

I  Gray. 

^  25.  A  happy  lot  be  thine,  and  larger  light 

5  Await  thee  there  ; — for  thou  hast  bow'd  thy  will 

\  In  cheerful  homage  to  the  rule  of  right, 

j  And  lovest  all,  and  doest  good  for  ill. 

]  Bryant. 

s  26.  In  you  are  youth,  beauty,  and  humble  port, 

j  Bounty,  richesse,  and  womanly  feature  ; 

J  God  better  knows  than  my  pen  can  report, 

^  Wisdom,  largesse,  estate  and  cunning  sure. 

I  In  every  point  so  guided  is  your  measure, 

\  In  word,  in  deed,  in  shape,  in  countenance. 

That  nature  could  no  more  her  child  advance. 

King  James  I. 


27.  You  do  incline  to  sadness,  and  oft-times 
Not  knowing  why. 

Cymbaline. 

28.  You  are  a  riddle. 
Which  he  who  solved  the  sphinx's  would  die  guess- 


ing! 


John  Tobin. 


'X 


43 

I  29.  You  have  train'd  your  spirit  to  forgive, 
As  you  hope  to  be  forgiven  ; 
And  you  live  on  earth  as  they  should  live 
Whose  hopes  and  home  are  heaven. 

BOWRIXO. 

30.  A  reasonable  woman  ; 

Fair  without  vanity,  rich  without  pride, 
Discreet  though  witty,  learned  yet  very  humble. 

John  Tobin. 


31.  There's  little  of  the  melancholy  in  you;  you  are   < 
never  sad  but  when  you  sleep,  and  not  even  sad 
then  ;  for  I  have  heard  that  you  often  dream  of 
mischief,  and  wake  yourself  with  laughing. 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

\  32.  Like  a  summer  storm  awhile  you're  cloudy, 

\  Burst  out  in  thunder  and  impetuous  showers, 

\  But  straight  the  sun  of  beauty  dawns  abroad, 

\  And  all  the  fair  horizon  is  serene, 
s  Nicholas  Rowe. 

\  33.  Think  not  the  good, 

'i  The  gentle  deeds  of  mercy  thou  hast  done 

\  Shall  die  forgotten  all  ;  the  poor,  the  prisoner, 

X  The  fatherless,  the  friendless,  and  the  widow, 

^  Who  daily  own  the  bounty  of  thy  hand, 

Shall  cry  to  heaven  and  pull  a  blessing  on  thee. 

George  Lillo. 


44 

34.  A  friend  to  the  hen-coop  you  often  are  found  ; 
When  the  rat  or  the  weasel  are  prowling  around, 
Or  chick  become  motherless  strays  from  the  wing, 
A  mother  are  you  to  the  motherless  thing. 

Maria  Jameb. 

35.  A'  the  day  you  spier  what  news  kind  neibor  bodies 

bring. 

Motherwell. 

36.  Innocence  and  virgin  modesty, 

i  A  virtue  and  a  consciousness  of  worth 

\  That  would  be  woo'd,  and  not  unsought  be  won. 

{  Milton — Paradise  Lost. 

I  37.  It  is  your  pleasure  sweetly  to  complain, 

j  And  to  be  taken  with  a  sudden  pain  ; 

>  Then  up  you  start,  all  ecstasy  and  bliss, 

I  And  are,  sweet  soul,  just  as  sincere  in  this. 

5  Oh,  how  you  roll  your  charming  eyes  in  spite, 

J  And  look  delightfully  with  all  vour  might. 

^  Dr.  Young — Love  of  Fame. 


i 


38.   Gracious  to  all ;  but  where  your  love  is  due 
So  fast,  so  faithful,  loyal,  just,  and  true, 
That  a  bold  hand  as  soon  might  hope  to  force 
The  rolling  light  of  heaven,  as  stay  your  course. 

Waller. 


i 


<  39.  Thou  medley  of  contraries  ! 

We  trust  thee,  yet  we  doubt  thee, 


^ 


I  45  i 

\  Our  darkness  and  our  light ; 

i  Night  would  be  day  without  thee, 

\  And  day,  without  thee,  night. 

^  Judge  Charlton. 

5  40.  You  are  a  soul  so  white  and  so  chaste, 

\  As  nothing  called  foul 

\  Dares  approach  with  a  blot, 

\  Or  any  least  spot ; 

I  But  still  you  control 

\  Or  make  your  own  lot, 

I  Preserving  love  pure  as  it  first  was  begot. 

\  ^  Ben  Jonson. 

I  41.  The  power  you  wield  has  its  best  spells  in  love, 

\  And  gentleness,  and  thought ;  never  in  scorn, 

;  Or  any  wayward  impulse  or  caprice. 

I  W.    G.    SIMMS. 

42.  You  love  to  listen  better  than  to  talk, 

^  And,  rather  than  be  gadding,  would  sit  quiet ; — 

I  Hate  cards,  and  cordials. 
I  Tobin. 

!  43.  You  do  not  love 

\  As  men  love,  who  love  often.     Yours  has  been 

j  A  single  sentiment  for  one  alone, 

j  An  all-engrossing  passion,  which  doth  live 

^  On  hope  and  faitli. 

!:  Elizabeth  Bogart. 


\  46 

44.  Thou  talkest  well,  but  talking  is  thy  privilege  ; 
'Tis  all  the  boasted  courage  of  thy  sex. 

Nicholas  Rowe — Tamerlane. 

45.  Thoughts  go  sporting  through  your  mind 

Like  children  among  flowers, 
And  deeds  of  gentle  goodness  are 

The  measure  of  your  hours. 
In  soul  or  face  you  bear  no  trace 

Of  one  from  Eden  driven, 
But,  like  the  rainbow,  seem,  though  born 

Of  earth,  a  part  of  heaven  ! 

•  George  Hill. 

46.  All  things  thou  art  by  turns,  from  wrath  to  love. 
From  the  queen  eagle,  to  the  vestal  dove. 

Barry  Cornwall. 

47.  You've  turn'd  up  your  nose  at  the  short. 

And  cast  down  your  eyes  at  the  tall ; 
But  then  you  just  did  it  in  sport. 
And  now  you've  no  lover  at  all. 

G.  P.  Morris. 

48.  Alive  to  feel  and  curious  to  explore 
Each  distant  object  of  refined  distress. 

Whitehead — Roman  Father. 

49.  You  have  a  soul 
Of  god-like  mould,  intrepid  and  commanding: 


J^. 


47 

But  you  liave  passions  which  outstrip  the  wind, 
And  tear  your  virtues  up. 

CoNGREVE — Mourning  Bride. 


50.  There's  not  a  lovely  transient  thing 
But  brings  thee  to  our  mind  ! 
The  rainbow,  or  the  fragile  flower, 
Sweet  summer's  fading  joys, 
The  waning  moon,  the  dying  day, 
The  passing  glories  of  the  clouds, 
The  leaf  that  brightens  as  it  falls, 
The  wild  tones  of  the  iEolian  harp. 
All  tell  some  touching  tale  of  thee , 
There's  not  a  tender  lovely  thing 


But  brings  thee  to  our  mind. 


Mrs.  Follen. 


I  51.  'Tis  not  your  part, 

{  Out  of  your  fond  misgivings,  to  perplex 

I  The  fortunes  of  the  man  to  whom  you  cleave  ; 

i  'Tis  yours  to  weave  all  that  you  have  of  fliir 

s  And  briorht,  in  the  dark  meshes  of  their  web. 

s  Talfourd — Ion. 

\  52.  In  our  hours  of  ease, 

I  Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please ; 

\  When  pain  and  sickness  rend  the  brow,  l 

s  i 

\  A  ministering  angel  thou.  . 

s  Scott.  i 

<  » 


53.  Ever  art  thou  fair, 
Ev'n  in  the  city's  gaudy  tumult,  fair; 
Yet  he  who  marl<s  thee  only  as  the  charm 
And  worship  of  gay  crowds,  in  festive  halls, 
Knows  but  thy  living  image,  not  thy  soul, 
Joyless  in  that  cold  pomp. 

Dr.  Brown — Bower  vf  Spring, 

54.  Thine  is  the  heart  that  is  geptle  and  kind, 

And  light  as  the  feather  that  sports  in  the  wind. 

Hogg — Queen's  Wake. 

55.  Your  person  is  a  paradise,  and  your  soul  the  cherub 

to  guard  it. 

Dryden. 

56.  Your  two  red  lips  affected  zephyrs  blow, 
To  cool  the  Hyson,  and  inflame  the  beau  ; 
While  one  white  fmger  and  a  thumb  conspire 
To  lift  the  cup,  and  make  the  world  admire. 

Young. 

57.  More  than  a  sermon  love  you  the  touch'd  string. 
You  love  to  tinkling  tunes  your  feet  to  fling. 

Allan  Cunningham. 

58.  Coquet  and  coy  at  once  your  air. 

Both  studied,  though  both  seem  neglected  ; 
Careless  you  are  with  artful  care, 


Affecting  to  seem  unaffected. 


CONGREVE. 


.» 


49 

59.  Your  sweet  humor 

Is  easy  as  a  calm,  and  peaceful  too. 
All  your  affections  like  the  dew  on  roses, — 
Fair  as  the  flowers  themselves,  as  sweet  and  gentle. 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher — The  Pilgrim. 

60.  Grateful  we  find  you,  patient  of  control ; 
A  most  bewitching  gentleness  of  soul 
Makes  pleasure  of  what  work  you  have  to  do. 

Bloomfield — The  Miller's  Maid. 


^         i>  5 


51  1 


WHAT   IS   THE   PERSONAL  APPEARANCE    OF 
YOUR  LADY-LOVE  ? 


Must  you  have  my  picture  ? 
You  will  enjoin  me  to  a  strai.^e  punishment. 
With  what  a  conipell'd  face  a  woman  sits 
While  she  is  drawing !     I  have  noted  divers 
Either  to  fain  smiles,  or  suck  in  the  hps, 
To  have  a  little  mouth  ;  ruffle  the  cheeks, 
To  have  the  dimple  seen ;  and  so  disorder 
The  face  with  affectation,  at  next  sitting 
It  has  not  been  the  same. 

But  indeed 

If  ever  I  would  have  mine  drawn  to  the  life, 
I  would  have  a  painter  steal  it  at  such  a  time 
I  were  devoutly  kneeling  at  my  prayers ; 
There  is  then  a  heavenly  beauty  in't,  the  soul 
Moves  in  the  superficies. 

John  Webster — 
T!te  Devil's  Laio  Case.     A  Tragi-Comedy. 

From  Lamb's  Specimens  of  Dramatic  Poets. 


53 


e 


\  WHAT  IS  THE  PERSONAL  APPEAHANCE  OF 
YOUR  LADY-LOVE? 


ER  eyes  are  shadowy,  full  of  thought 

and  prayer, 
And   with  long  lashes  o'er  a   white 

rose  cheek 

Drooping. 

Mrs.  Hemans. 


\  2.  A  thing  all  lightness,  life,  and  glee, 

\  One  of  the  shapes  we  seem 

\  To  meet  in  visions  of  the  night, 

I  And  should  they  greet  our  waking  sight, 


Imagine  that  we  dream. 


George  Hill. 


3.  A  lovelier  nymph  the  pencil  never  drew  ; 
For  the  fond  Graces  form'd  her  easy  mien. 
And  heaven's  soft  azure  in  her  eye  is  seen. 
She  seems  a  rose-bud  when  it  first  receives 
The  genial  .sun  in  its  expanding  leaves. 

Havley — Triumphs  of  Temper. 


•  W•■Wv■^^v•^"^v^^w%  % 


Eyes 

•>        As  tender  as  the  blue  of  weeping  skies, 
\        Yet  sunny  in  their  radiance  as  that  blue, 
\        When  sunset  glitters  on  its  falling  dew. 


5 


John  Neal. 

5.  She  bends  beneath  the  weight  of  dress. 

The  stiffen'd  robes,  which  spoil  her  easy  mien, 
And  art  mistaken  makes  her  beauty  less, 

While  still  it  hides  some  beauties  better  seen. 

Hammond — Love  Elegies. 


I  6.  There  is  a  sweetness  in  her  upturn'd  eyes, 

V        A  tearful  lustre,  such  as  fancy  lends 

\        To  the  Madonna,  and  a  soft  surprise, 

\        As  if  they  found  strange  beauty  in  the  air. 

^  Park  Benjamin. 

r.  Her  soft,  clear  eyes,  deep  in  their  tenderness, 
Reflect  all  beautiful  and  kindly  things. 
She  would  seem  infantile,  but  that  her  brow 

<        In  lilied  majesty  uptowers,  and  tells 

\        That  lofty  thoughts  and  chasten'd  pride  are  there. 

5  Mrs.  Gilman. 


{  8.  Oh,  the  words 

\  Laugh  on  her  lips  ;  the  motion  of  her  smiles 

;  Showers  beauty,  as  the  air-caressed  spray 

;  The  dews  of  morning  ;  and  her  stately  steps 

i  Are  light,  as  though  a  winged  angel  trod 


^-»~^*o 


( 


Over  earth's  flowers,  and  fear'd  to  brush  away  \ 

Their  delicate  hues.  \ 

MiLMAN — Fazio.  S 

I    9.  She  has  aue  e'e,  she  has  but  ane,  ; 

The  cat  has  twa  the  very  color ;  \ 

Five  rusty  teeth  forbye  a  stump, 

A  clapper  tongue  would  deave  a  miller. 

Burns. 

10.  She  lacks  the  beauty  of  a  "damask  skin," 
But  there  are  roses  lying  near  at  hand. 
To  spring  unto  her  cheek ;  oft  from  within 
They  come,  called  up  at  feeling's  high  command, 
And  on  the  glowing  surface  long  remain. 

Mrs.  M.  S.  B.  Dana. 

11.  If  on  her  we  see  display'd 
Pendent  gems,  and  rich  brocade, 
If  her  chintz  with  less  expense 
Flows  in  easy  negligence. 
If  she  strikes  the  vocal  strings. 
If  she's  silent,  speaks,  or  sings, 
If  she  sit,  or  if  she  move. 
Still  we  love  and  we  approve. 


Dr.  Johnson. 


12.  Her  laugh  is  like  a  fairy's  laugh, 
I  So  musical  and  sweet ; 

\  Her  foot  is  like  a  fairy's  foot, 
\  So  dainty  and  so  fleet. 


.5? 


56 

Her  smile  is  fitful  sunshine, 
Her  hand  is  dimpled  snow, 

Her  lip  a  very  rose-bud 
In  sweetness  and  in  glow. 


Mrs.  Osgood. 


13.  A  thoughtful  and  a  quiet  grace. 
Though  happy  still ; — yet  chance  distress 
Hath  left  a  pensive  loveliness  ; 

Fancy  hath  tamed  her  fairy  gleams. 
And  her  heart  broods  o'er  home-born  dreams. 

Wilson. 

14.  Her  swollen  eyes  are  much  disfigured, 
•.  And  her  faire  face  with  tears 

\  Is  foully  blubbered. 


Spenser. 


15.  A  downcast  eye,  repentant  of  the  pam 
That  its  mild  light  creates. 


o' 


Keats.  \ 


i  16.  Not  fairer  grows  the  lily  of  the  vale, 
;  Whose  bosom  opens  to  the  vernal  gale ; 


^  While  health  that  rises  with  the  new-born  day, 

I  Breathes  o'er  her  cheek  the  softest  blush  of  May. 

Falconer — Shipwreck. 

17.  Fairest  where  all  is  beautiful  and  bright ! 

With  what  a  grace  she  glides  among  the  flowers 
That  smile  around  her,  bowing  at  her  touch. 

Gallagher. 


s 


i 


-^ 


K 


57 


18.   On  her  cheek  an  autumn  flush 

Deeply  ripens  ; — such  a  blush 

In  the  midst  of  brown  was  born, 

Like  red  poppies  grown  with  corn. 

Around  her  eyes  her  tresses  lay,  \ 

Which  are  blackest,  none  can  say ;  ■  j 

But  long  lashes  veil  a  light,  | 

I  That  had  else  been  all  too  bright.  \ 

>  Hood  \ 

I  19.  Ne  in  her  speach,  ne  in  her  haviour 

\  Is  lightnesse  scene,  or  looser  vanitie ; 

1  But  gratious  womanhood  and  gravitie, 

\  Above  the  reason  of  her  youthly  yeares. 

I  Her  golden  locks  she  roundly  doth  uptye, 

I  In  braided  trammels,  that  ne  looser  heares 

I  Do  out  of  order  stray  about  her  daintie  eares. 
J  Spenser 

\  20.  A  silver  line,  that  from  the  brow  to  the  crown, 

\  And  in  the  middle,  parts  the  braided  hair, 

Just  serves  to  show  how  delicate  a  soil 

The  golden  harvest  grows  in  ;  while  those  eyes, 

Soft  and  capacious  as  a  cloudless  sky. 

Whose  azure  depth  their  colour  emulates, 

Must  needs  be  conversant  with  upv.-ard  lool:.^,  ; 

Prayer's  voiceless  service.  i 

Wordsworth.  \ 

< 

21.  Half  the  charms  that  deck  her  face,  | 

Arise  from  powder,  shreds,  and  lace.  > 

Goldsmith.  \ 


I  58 

•)  < 

I  22.  Time  from  her  form  has  ta'en  away  but  little  of  its 

I  grace,                                                                         < 

I  His  touch  of  thought  hath  dignified  the  beauty  of  } 

I  her  face.                                                                     i 

I  Bayley.          > 


;  23.  'Tis  strange, 

I  That  though  you  study  long,  you  cannot  tell 

I  The  color  of  her  eye,  that  seems  to  change, 

Beneath  the  ivory  lid,  from  brilliant  black 

To  liquid  hazel,  then  to  full  soft  gray. 

Fast  melting  into  violet. 

Miss  M.  E.  Lee. 

24.  Her  face  is  heaven's  bow  in  showers.     Her  dark 

hair  flows  round  it  like  streaming  clouds. 

OSSIAN. 

25.  She  has  an  innocently  downcast  look, 

And  when  she  raises  up  her  eyes  of  blue, 
It  seems  as  if  her  features  were  a  book, 
Where  sweet  affection  letters  love  for  you. 

RuFus  Dawes. 

26.  Indeed  she  has  a  marvellous  white  hand, 
I  must  needs  confess. 

Troilus  and  Cressida. 

\  27.  I  never  saw  a  crowned  queen, 

With  such  a  noble  air, 

So  angel-like,  so  womanly. 

As  is  your  lady  fair.  s 

Mary  Howitt.  < 


59 

28.  Around  her  playful  lips  do  glitter 

Heat  lightnings  of  a  girlish  scorn, 
Harmless  they  are,  for  nothing  bitter 

In  that  dear  heart  was  ever  bom. 
That  merry  heart,  that  cannot  lie 

Within  its  warm  nest  quietly, 
But  ever  from  the  full  dark  eye 

Is  looking  kindly,  night  and  morn. 

J.    R.    LOWKLL. 

29.  Oh,  her  glance  is  the  brightest  that  ever  has  shone, 

And  the  lustre  of  love's  on  her  cheek ; 
But  all  the  bewildering  enchantment  is  gone 
The  moment  you  hear  her  speak. 

Mrs.  Ellet. 

30.  The  rose,  with  faint  and  feeble  streak, 
^  So  slightly  marks  the  maiden's  cheek. 

That  you  would  say  her  hue  is  pale ; 
But  if  she  face  the  Southern  gale, 
Or  speaks,  or  sings,  or  quicker  moves. 
Or  hears  the  praise  of  those  she  loves, 
Or  when  of  interest  is  express'd 
Aught  that  wakes  feeling  in  her  breast, 
The  mantling  blood  in  ready  play 
Rivals  the  blush  of  opening  day. 

Scott — Rokehy 


[31.  She  dresses  aye  sae  clean  and  neat, 
I  Both  decent  and  genteel ; 


i  \ 

'60  J 


And  then  there's  something  ir:  her  gait  i 

Gars  ony  dress  look  weel.  | 

BtTRNS.  i 


<  32.  She  walks  in  beauty,  like  the  night 

:;  Of  cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies  ; 

j  And  all  that's  best  of  dark  and  bright, 

I  Meet  in  her  aspect  and  her  eyes.                                ^ 

i ,  Btron.         \ 


\  33.  Eyes  of  the  gray, 

s 

I  The  soft  gray  of  the  brooding  dove, 

\  Full  of  the  sweet  and  tender  ray 

\  Of  holy  love. 

;  Mrs.  Norton. 

s 

I  34.  I  saw  her  hand — she  has  a  leathern  hand, 

I  A  freestone  color'd  hand.     I  verily  did  think  | 

1  That  her  old  gloves  were  on,  but  'twas  her  hand  ;     [ 
She  has  a  housewife's  hand  !  s 

As  You  Like  It.  \ 

35.  The  fashion  of  her  gracefulness  is  not  a  follow'd   j 

rule,  5 

I  And  her  effervescent  sprightliness  was  never  taught 

\  at  school ; 

<  Her  words  aie  all   peculiar,  like  the  fairy's  that 

i  spoke  pearls,  < 

I  And  her  tone  is  ever  sweetest  'mid  the  cadences  of  > 

I  girh.  I 

i  ,^  Willis.  I 


61 

I  36,  There's  language  in  her  eye,  her  cheek,  her  lip  ;  s 

I  Nay,  her  foot  speaks.  5 

\  Troilus  and  Cressida.  i 


'(  37.  Slie  has  that  changing  color  on  the  cheek,  ] 

^  Which  speaks  the  heart  so  well  ;  those  deep  blue   | 

i 
eyes, 

Like  summer's  darkest  sky,  yet  not  so  glad  ; 

They  are  too  passionate  for  happiness. 

Miss  Lanoon. 

38.  There  is  a  light  around  her  brow, 
A  holiness  in  those  dark  eves, 
Which  show,  though  wandering  earthward  now, 
5  Her  spirit's  home  is  in  the  skies. 

^  Moore. 


5  39.  A  still,  sweet,  placid,  moonlight  face, 
And  slightly  nonchalant, 
Which  seems  to  hold  a  middle  place 

Between  one's  love  and  aunt. 
Where  childhood's  star  has  left  a  ray 

In  woman's  summer  sky. 
As  morning's  dew  and  blushing  day 
On  fruit  and  blossom  lie. 

O.  W.  Holmes. 


•:  40.  A  brifrht,  frank  brow,  that  has  not  loarn'd  to  blush   i 
at  gaze  of  man.  '. 

Macauley — Lays  of  Ancient  Rome.  < 


62 

> 
<■ 

I  41.  If  to  her  share  some  female  errors  fall, 

Look  in  her  face,  and  you'll  forget  them  all. 

Hayley — Triumphs  of  Temper. 

42.  Quips,  and  cranks,  and  playful  wiles. 
Nods,  and  becks,  and  wreathed  smiles, 
Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek, 

And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek. 

Milton — Comus. 

43.  Excellently  done,  if  God  did  all. 

Twelfth  Night 

44.  .  A  ruby  lip 

First  dawns ;  then  glows  the  young  cheek's  deeper 

hue, 
Yet  delicate  as  roses  when  they  dip 
Their  odorous  blossoms  in  the  morning  dew. 
Then  beam  the  eyes,  twin  stars  of  living  blue, 
Half  shaded  by  the  curls  of  glossy  hair. 
That  turn  to  gold  in  the  West's  golden  glare. 

Croly — Angel  of  the  World. 

45    Love  glower'd*  when  he  saw  her  bonnie  dark  e'e, 
'An  swore  by  heaven's  grace, 
He  ne'er  had  seen,  nor  thought  to  see, 
Since  e'er  he  left  the  Paphian  lea, 

Mair  lovely  a  dvvallin'  place. 
,  William  Tiiom. 

*  Stared  with  surorise. 


J 


i 


\ 


63 


\  46.  An  angel-face!  its  sunny  "wealth  of  hair," 

>  In  radiant  ripples,  bathes  the  graceful  throat, 

\  And  dimpled  shoulders  ;  round  the  rosy  curve 

\  Of  the  sweet  mouth,  a  smile  seems  wandering  ever, 

\  While  in  the  depths  of  azure  fire  that  gleams 

5  Beneath  the  drooping  lashes,  sleeps  a  world 

I  Of  eloquent  meaning — passionate,  but  pure; 

\  Dreamy,  subdued,  but  O,  how  beautiful  ! 

>  Mrs.  Osgood. 

^47.  Do  but  look  in  her  eyes,  they  do  light 
<  All  that  Love's  world  compriseth  : 

5  Do  but  look  on  her  hair,  it  is  bright 

As  Love's  star  when  it  riseth  ! 
Do  but  mark,  her  forehead's  smoother 

Than  words  that  sooth  her, 
And  from  her  arched  brows  such  a  grace 
Sheds  itself  through  the  face, 
As  alone  there  triumphs  to  the  life. 
All  the  gain,  all  the  good,  of  the  elements  at  strife. 

Ben  Jonson. 


48.   When  first  you  look  upon  her  face, 

You  little  note,  beside 
The  timidness,  that  still  betrays 

The  beauties  it  would  hide ; 
But,  one  by  one,  they  look  out  from 

Her  blushes  and  her  eyes. 
And  still  the  last  the  loveliest. 


Like  stars  from  twilight  skies. 


Gkorge  Hill. 


64 

49.  Endearing  !  endearing  ! 
Why  so  endearing 
Are  those  dark  lustrous  eyes, 

Through  their  silk  fi-inge  peering  ? 
They  love  thee  !  they  love  thee ! 

Deeply,  sincerely ; 
And  more  than  aught  else  on  earth, 
Thou  lov'st  them  dearly. 

Motherwell. 


50.  In  face  an  angel,  but  in  soul  a  cat ! 

Dr.  Wolcott — Peter  Pindar. 


51.  Her  feet  beat  witchcraft  as  she  heads  the  dance, 

Lads,  like  a  garland,  hem  her  round  about. 
While   Love   rains  on   them  from   her  dark   eye- 
glance. 
The  maidens  near  her,  tittering,  take  their  stance, 
And  on  her  swan-white  neck,  and  snowy  arms. 
Her  small  and  nimble  feet,  they  look  askance  ; 

The  hoary  fiddler,  as  he  listens,  warms. 
And  draws  a  lustier  bow,  and  gazes  on  her  charms. 

Allan  Cl'nningham. 

52.  A  cheek,  fair 
And  delicate  as  rose-leaf  newly  blown — 
A  brow  like  marble — lofty,  and  profuse 
With  the  rich  brown  of  her  o'ergathering  hair. 

W.    G.    SIMMS. 


65 

53.  Such  her  beauty,  as  no  arts 

Have  enrich'd  with  borrow'd  grace  ; 
Her  high  birth  no  pride  imparts, 
For  she  blushes  in  her  place. 
Folly  boasts  a  glorious  blood, 
She  is  noblest,  being  good. 

Habington. 


^  54.  O'er  her  features  steal,  serenely  mild, 

j  The  trembling  sanctity  of  woman's  truth. 

Her  modesty,  and  simpleness,  and  grace  ; 

Yet  those  who  deeper  scan  the  human  face,  I 

Amid  the  trial-hour  of  fear  or  ruth,  ^ 

May  clearly  read,  upon  its  heaven-writ  scroll,  \ 

That  hicfh  and  firm  resolve,  which  nerved  the  Ro-   i 

man  soul.  \ 

Mrs.  Sigournev.  \ 

< 

\  55.  On  her  forehead  sitteth  pride,  \ 

\  Crown'd  with  scorn,  and  falcon-eyed ;  > 

I  But  she  beneath,  methinks,  doth  twine  \ 

I  Silken  smiles,  that  seem  divine. 

'  Can  such  smiles  be  false  and  cold  ? 

<  Can  she,  will  she  wed  for  gold  ? 

\  Barry  Cornwall. 

I 
■; 

s 

>  56.  Oh  !  her  beauty  is  fair  to  see, 

{  But  still  and  steadfast  is  her  e'e, 

\  And  the  soft  desire  of  maiden's  e'en,  I 

\  In  that  mild  face  can  never  be  seen.  s 


*  ..^.'t-'V^^^  \ 


06 

Her  seymat  is  the  lily  flower, 

And  her  cheek  the  moss-rose  in  a  shower, 

And  her  voice,  like  the  distant  melody 

That  floats  along  the  twilight  sea. 

But  she  lo'es  to  i-aike  the  lonely  glen, 

And  keep  afar  frae  the  haunts  o'  men. 

Hogg — Queen's  Wake. 

)  57.  'Tis  not  her  eye  or  lip  we  beauty  call, 
But  the  joint  force  and  full  result  of  all. 

Pope. 

58.  Her  face  is  very  beautiful,  and  mirth 
Is  native  on  her  lip ;  but  ever,  now, 

As  a  sweet  tone  delighteth  her,  the  smile 
Goes  meltinfT  into  sadness,  and  the  lash 
Droops  gently  to  her  eye,  as  if  it  knew 
Affection  was  too  chaste  a  thing  for  mirth. 

Willis. 

59.  Have  you  seen  but  a  bright  lily  grow, 

Before  rude  hands  have  touch'd  it  ? 
Have  you  mark'd  but  the  fall  o'  the  snow, 
J  Before  the  soil  hath  smutch'd  it  ? 

Have  you  felt  the  wool  of  the  beaver  ? 

Or  swan's-down  ever  ? 
Or  have  smelt  o'  the  bud  of  the  brier  ? 

Or  the  nard  in  the  fire  ? 
Or  have  tasted  the  bag  of  the  bee  ? 
O  so  white  !  O  so  soft !  O  so  sweet  is  she  ! 

Ben  Jo.nson. 


G7  i' 

\  60.  Her  nose  is  crook'd,  and  tura'd  outwarde, 
Her  chin  stands  all  awry  ; 
A  worse  formed  lady  than  she  is, 

Was  never  seen  with  eye. 
Her  haires  like  serpents  cling  aboute 

Her  cheekes  of  deadlye  hewe  ; 
A  worse  form'd  ladye  than  she  is 
No  man  mote  ever  view. 

Percy's  Reliques — 71ie  Marriage  of  Sir  Gawaine 


^ 


<.  '  > 


WHAT  IS  THE  PERSONAL  APPEARANCE  OF 
HIM  WHO  LOVES  YOU  \ 


'Twas  pretty,  though  a  plague, 
To  see  him  every  hour,  to  sit  and  draw 
His  arched  brows,  his  hawking  eye,  his  curls, 
In  our  heart's  table  ;  heart,  too  capable 
Of  every  line  and  trick  of  his  sweet  favor. 

AWs  Well  That  Ends  Well. 

I  will  drop  in  his  way  some  obscure  epistle  of  love  ;  wherein, 
by  the  color  of  his  beard,  the  shape  of  his  leg,  the  manner  of  his 
gait,  the  expressure  of  his  eye,  forehead,  and  complexion,  he  shall 
find  himelf  most  feelingly  personated. 

Ticelfth  Night. 


'WW^^C 


WHAT  IS  THE  PERSONAL  APPEARANCE  OF 
HIM  WHO  LOVES  YOU? 


IN  his  bold  Visage  middle  age 
I   Has  slightly  press'd  its  signet  sage, 
3  Yet  has  not  quench'd  the  open  truth 
■   And  fiery  vehemence  of  youth. 

Scott — Lady  of  the  Lake. 

2.  He  is  young 

And  eminently  beautiful,  and  life 

Mantles  in  eloquent  fulness  on  his  lip. 

And  sparkles  in  his  glance,  and  in  his  mien 

There  is  a  gracious  pride  that  every  eye 

Follows  with  benisons.  \ 

Willis. 


3.  He  hath  but  a  little  wee  face,  with  a  little  yellow 

beard. 

Merry  Trices  of  Windsor. 

4.  The  high-born  eye, 
j        That  checks  low  mirth,  but  lacks  not  courtesy.  | 
^                                                                                 Bykox — Corsair.  I 


] 


I  72 


I  5.  Locks  jet  black,  and  clustering  round  a  face 

>  Open  as  day,  and  full  of  manly  daring. 

I  Rogers — Italy. 

I  6.  His  face  is  keen  as  is  the  wind 

\  That  cuts  along  the  hawthorn  fence, 

<  A  motley  air 

]  Of  courage  and  of  impudence. 

\  Wordsworth. 


\  7.  Oh  what  a  deal  of  scorn  looks  beautiful 

\        In  the  contempt  and  anger  of  his  lip  ! 

I  Twelfth  Night. 

\ 

\  8.  A  goodly  person,  and  can  manage  fairs 

\  His  stubborn  steed, 

\  Who  under  him  doth  trample  in  the  air, 

5  And  chafe,  that  any  on  his  back  should  sit. 

]  Spenser. 

9.  His  waggish  face,  that  speaks  a  soul  jocose. 

Seems  t'have  been  cast  i'  tlie  mould  of  fun  and 
glee; 
And  on  the  bridge  of  his  well-arched  nose. 

Sits  laughter  plumed,  and  white-wing'd  jollity. 

Tennent — Ansler  Fair, 

10.  The  glow  of  temperance  o'er  his  cheek  is  spread, 
Where  the  soft  down  half  veils  the  chasten'd  red. 

<  Crabbe. 

Si- 


73  I 


11.  Readable  as  open  book  ; 

And  much  of  easy  dignity  there  lies 
In  the  frank  lifting  of  his  cordial  eyes. 

Leigh  Hunt — Rimini. 

j  12.   Underneath  that  face,  like  summer  ocean's, 
Its  lip  as  moveless,  and  its  cheek  as  clear, 
Slumbers  a  whirlwind  of  the  heart's  emotions, 
Love,  hatred,  pride,  hope,  sorrow — all  save  fear. 

IIallece. 


13.  Singing  he  is,  or  fluting  all  the  day  ; 
He  is  as  fresh  as  is  the  month  of  ]\Iay.  \ 
He  can  songs  make,  and  well  indite,  \ 
Jouste,  and  eke  dance,  and  well  portray  and  write ;  { 

\          Courteous  he  is,  lowly  and  serviceable,  ^ 

And  carveth  for  his  father  at  the  table.  I 

Chaucer.  ^ 

14.  Does  he  not  hold  up  his  head,  as  it  were,  and  strut  i 

in  his  gait  ?  \ 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor.  ^ 

15.  Sober  he  seems,  and  very  sagely  sad,  < 

And  to  the  ground  his  eyes  are  lowly  bent.  \ 

Simple  in  show. 

Spenser — Fairy  Queen. 

16.  He  is  the  deuce  among  the  girls,  > 
A  thi#ig  of  foppery  and  ton,  of  whiskers  and  of  curls.  5 

:                                                                                Albert  Pike.  > 


j5- 


SS 


74 

17.  A  dainty  gentleman, 

His  sleepy  eyes  half  closed,  and  countenance 
To  no  expression  stronger  than  may  suit 
A  simper,  capable  of  being  turn'd. 

SOUTIIEY. 

18.  Contempt  contracts  his  face,  a  smile  is  on  his  dark- 

brown  cheek,  his  red  eye  rolls  half  concealed  be- 
neath his  shaggy  brows. 

O  SSI  AN. 

19.  Downcast,  or  shooting  glances  far, 

Hovv  beautiful  his  eyes, 
That  blend  the  nature  of  the  star 
With  that  of  summer  skies  ! 


Wordsworth. 


20.  Eyebrows  bent  like  Cupid's  bow, 
Front  an  ample  field  of  snow, 
Even  nose,  and  cheek  withal 
Smooth  as  is  the  billiard-ball ; 
Chin  as  woolly  as  the  peach. 
And  his  lip  doth  kissing  teach, 
Till  he  cherish  too  much  beard 
And  make  Love  and  you  afear'd. 


Ben  Jonson. 


21.  A  fair  and  meaning  face,  an  eye  of  fire. 

That  checks  the  bold  and  makes  the  free  "retire. 

Crabue. 


K, 


s 


75 

22.  He  has  all  the  graces  that  render  a  man's  society 
dear  to  ladies. 

Massing  ER. 


23.  A  beard  that  would  make  a  razor  shake, 

Albert  Pike. 


Unless  its  nerves  were  stronsr ! 


24.  He  hath  but  a  little  beard,  but  time  will  send  more 

if  the  man  will  be  thankful. 

As  You  Like  It. 

25.  A  fresh  young  Squire, 
A  lover,  and  a  lusty  bachelor ; 

With  locks  curl'd  as  they  were  laid  in  press : 
Of  twenty  years  of  age  he  is,  I  guess. 

Chaucer. 

26.  His  form  is  middle  size, 

\  Shaped  in  proportion  fair ; 

l  And  hazel  is  his  eagle  eye, 

[  And  auburn  of  the  deepest  dye 

I  His  short  curl'd  beard  and  hair. 


I 


Scott. 


27.  The  tartness  of  his  face  sours  ripe  grapes. 

Coriolanus. 


\  28.  A  kind  true  heart,  a  spirit  high, 

I  That  cannot  fear,  and  will  not  bow, 


I  76  \ 


Are  written  in  his  manly  eye, 
And  on  his  manly  brow. 


Halleck. 


29.  He  has  more  goodness  in  .lis  little  finger,  than  you 

have  in  your  whole  body  ; 
Indeed  he  is  a  personable  man,  and  not  a  spindle- 
shanked  hoddy-doddy. 

Swift. 

30.  A  sweeter  and  a  lovelier  gentleman, 
Framed  in  the  prodigality  of  nature, 
Young,  valiant,  wise. 

The  spacious  earth  cannot  afford  again. 

Richard  III. 


31.  A  handsome  gallant,  and  a  beau  of  spirit, 

ce  so  well  as  he 
Tennent — Anster  Fair. 


Who  can  go  down  the  dance  so  well  as  he  ? 


32.  A  phantom,  fashionably  thin, 

With  limb  of  lath,  and  bearded  chin. 

Scott — Bridal  of  Triermain. 

33.  There  is  a  fair  behavior  in  him. 

And  though  that  nature  with  a  beauteous  wall 
Doth  oft  close  in  pollution,  yet  of  him 
I  well  believe,  he  has  a  mind  that  suits 
With  this  his  fair  and  outward  character. 

Tico  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 


k 


> 

77 

34.  Like  a  crane,  his  neck  is  long  and  fine, 
With  which  he  svvalloweth  up  excessive  feast. 

Sfenser. 

35.  Oh  thy  love  has  an  eye 
Like  a  star  in  the  sky, 

And  breath  like  the  sweets  from  the  hawthorn  tree ; 

And  his  heart  is  a  treasure. 

Whose  worth  is  past  measure, 

And  yet  he  hath  given  all — all  to  thee. 

Barrv  Cornwall. 

36.  His  form,  his  face,  his  noble  mien, 
The  sweetness  of  his  touching  tone, 
His  feeling  heart  so  simply  shown, 
Such  gifts  of  mind,  such  gentle  grace, 
Proclaim  him  of  no  common  race. 

SOTHEBY. 

37.  A  brow  of  beautiful  yet  earnest  thought, 
A  form  of  manly  grace. 

Mrs   Sigourney. 

33.  He's  handsome,  valiant,  young, 

And  looks  as  he  were  laid  for  nature's  best, 
To  catch  weak  women's  eves. 

Dryden — All  for  Love. 

39.  In  that  fair  stand,  his  forehead,  Love  still  bends 
i  His  double  bow,  and  round  his  arrows  sends ; 


5?^ 

s 

< 


78 

In  that  tall  grove,  his  hair,  those  globy  rings  i 

He  flying  curls,  and  crispeth  with  his  wings.  \ 

Ben  Jonson.  i 


i  40.  He's  fat,  and  scant  o'  breath. 

s  Hamlet. 

< 

^  41.  Lordly  look'd  and  lordly  limb'd  is  he, — 

A  frame  of  iron,  a  right  arm  long  and  stark, 
A  rough,  loud  voice,  a  visage  somedale  dark, 
A  heart  which  soars  as  dangers  soar,  and  ne'er 

Sinks  save  in  peace. 

Allan  Cunningham. 

42.  Tall  is  his  frame,  his  forehead  high, 
Still  and  mysterious  is  his  eye  ; 
i  His  look  is  like  a  wintry  day 

\  When  storms  and  winds  have  sunk  away. 

i  Hogg — Queen's  Wake. 

\ 

j  43.  He  chats  like  popinjay, 

And  struts  with  phiz  tremendously  erect. 

Tennent — Anster  Fair. 

44.  His  large  fair  front,  and  eye  sublime,  declare 
Absolute  rule,  and  hyacinthine  locks. 
Round  from  his  parted  forelock,  manly  hang 


Clustering. 


Milton — Paradise  Lost. 


^^ 


I  79 

\  45.  A  sweet-faced  man  ;  a  proper  man  as  one  shall  see 

I  in  a  summer's  day ;  a  most  lovely,  gentleman- 

I  like  man. 

\  Midsummer  NighVs  Dream. 

I  46.  Dark  deep  eyes,  and  lips 

\  Whose  motions  gift  the  air  they  breathe  with  love. 

Shelley. 

47.  Full  long  are  both  his  spindle-shanks,  and  lean 
Just  like  a  walking-stick — no  calf  is  seen. 

Chaucer. 

48.  Faster  than  his  tongue 
Doth  make  offence,  his  eye  doth  heal  it  up. 

As  You  Like  It. 

49.  His  eyes  are  like  the  eagle's,  yet  sometimes 
Liker  the  dove's ;  and  at  his  will  he  wins 

I  All  hearts  with  softness,  or  with  spirit  awes. 

Home — Douglass. 


50.  There's  a  cold  bearing, 

And  grave,  severe  aspect  about  the  man. 
That  makes  our  spirits  pay  him  such  respect, 
As  though  he  dwelt  'neath  age's  silvery  pent-house, 
Despite  his  unripe  years. 


Fanny  Kemble. 


51.  Young  and  fair, 

Yet  a  man  ; — with  crisped  hair, 
Cast  in  thousand  snares  and  rings 


....>J 


[  80  1 

For  Love's  fingers,  and  his  wings :  \ 

Chesnut  color,  or  more  slack 

Gold,  upon  a  ground  of  black. 

Ben  Jonson. 

52.  A  brow  half  martial,  and  half  diplomatic. 
An  eye  upsoaring  like  an  eagle's  wings. 

Halleck. 

53.  He  capers,  he  dances,  he  has  eyes  of  youth ; 
He  writes  verses,  he  speaks  holiday, 
He  smells  April  and  May. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

\  54.  'Tis  not  his  talent  to  conceal  his  thoughts, 
\  And  carry  smiles  and  sunshine  in  his  face, 

I  When  discontent  sits  heavy  at  his  heart. 

I  Addison — Cato. 

> 

i 

5  55.  A  fop  complete, 

\         He  stalks  the  jest  and  glory  of  the  street. 

^  Crabbe. 

\  5G.  Oh  what  a  grace  is  seated  on  his  brow  ! 

A  combination  and  a  form  indeed. 

Where  every  god  doth  seem  to  set  his  seal 

To  give  the  world  assurance  of  a  man. 

Hamlet. 

I  57.  Such  beauty  as  great  strength  thinks  no  disgrace, 
I  Smiles  in  tlie  manly  features  of  his  face  ; 


81  I 

His  large  black  eyes,  fill'd  with  a  spriteful  liglit,        \ 
Shoot  forth  such  lively  and  illustrious  night, 
As  the  sunbeams  on  jet  reflecting  show  ; 
His  hair  is  black,  in  short  curU'd  waves  doth  flow ; 
His  tall,  straight  body  amid  thousands  stands,  I 

Like  some  fair  pine  o'erlooking  all  the  lands.  \ 

Cowley — Davideis.  i 


58.  He  witches  the  world  with  noble  horsemanship, 
And  vaults  into  his  saddle  with  such  ease. 

As  if  an  angel  dropt  down  from  the  clouds 
To  turn  and  wind  a  fiery  Pegasus. 

Henry  IV. 

59.  A  stalwart,  active,  soldier-looking  stripling, 
Handsome  as  Hercules  ere  his  first  labor, 
And  with  a  brow  of  thought  beyond  his  years 
When  in  repose,  till  his  eye  kindies  up, 

In  answering  yours. 

Byron — Werner. 

60.  His  face  is  dark,  but  very  quiet ; 

It  seems  like  looking  down  the  dusky  mouth 
Of  a  great  cannon. 

John  Sterling — Strafford. 


> 


/ 


^  j-v\r».*^->«p 


WHAT    IS    THE    CHARACTER   OF   YOUR 
LADY-LOVET 


Look  at  her,  whoe'er 
Thou  be  that  kindlest  with  a  Poet's  soul 

Intensely from  imagination  take 

The  treasure ;  what  mine  eyes  behold  see  thou, 
Even  though  the  Atlantic  Ocean  roll  between. 

Wordsworth. 

The  idea  of  her  life  shall  sweetly  creep 

Into  his  study  of  imagination  ; 

And  every  lovely  organ  of  her  life. 

Shall  come  apparell'd  in  more  precious  habit. 

More  moving,  delicate,  and  full  of  life. 

Into  the  eye  and  prospect  of  his  soul. 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 


£«' 


'*5 

f 

i 


WHAT  IS  THE  CHARACTER  OF  YOUR  LADY- 
LOVE ? 


ER  body's  matchless  form 
Is  belter'd  by  the  pureness  of  her  mind. 

Massinger. 

2.  She's  made  of  those  rare  elements 
that  now  and  then  appear, 
As  if  removed  by  accident  into  a  lesser  sphere, 
Forever  reaching  up  and  on  to  life's  sublimer  things, 
As  if  they  had  been  used  to  track  the  universe  with 


wino-s. 


Willis. 


3.  This  reasoning  maid,  above  her  sex's  dread. 
Has  dared  to  read,  and  dares  to  say  she  read. 


/RABBZ. 


4.  Her  smile  so  soft,  her  heart  so  kind, 
Her  voice  for  pity's  tones  so  fit. 
All  speak  her  woman  ; — but  her  mind 
Lifts  her  where  bards  and  sages  sit. 


Dr.  Brown. 


§5> 


A  perfect  woman,  nobly  plann'd, 
To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command, 
And  yet  a  spirit  still,  and  bright 
AVith  something  of  an  angel  light. 


Wordsworth. 


6.  One  whose  life  is  like  a  star, 
Without  toil  or  rest  to  mar 
Its  divinest  harmony, 
Its  God-given  serenity. 


James  Aldrich. 


7.  She  is  wise,  if  I  can  judge  of  her. 
And  fair  she  is,  if  that  mine  eyes  be  true, 
And  true  she  is,  as  she  hath  proved  herself. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

8.  Right  from  the  hand  of  God  her  spirit  came 
Unstain'd,  and  she  hath  ne'er  forgotten  whence 
It  came,  nor  wander'd  far  from  thence, 
But  laboreth  to  keep  her  still  the  same, 
Near  to  her  place  of  birth,  that  she  may  not 
Soil  her  white  raiment  with  an  earthly  spot. 

J.  R.  Lowell. 


9. 


With  her  mien  she  enamors  the  brave, 
With  her  wit  she  engages  the  free. 

With  her  modesty  pleases  the  grave  ; 
She  is  every  way  pleasing  to  thee. 


Shenstone. 


.JS 


'X 


87 


i  10.  I  would  my  horse  had  the  speed  of  her  tongue. 
^  Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 


11.  As  through  the  hedge-row  shade  the  violet  steals, 
And  the  sweet  air  its  modest  leaf  reveals, 
Her  softer  charms,  but  by  their  influence  known, 
Surprise  all  hearts,  and  mould  them  to  her  own. 

Rogers. 

12.  Full  many  a  lady 
You  have  eyed  with  best  regard,  and  many  a  time,   ^ 
The  harmony  of  their  tongues  hath  into  bondage 
Brought  your  too  diligent  ear  ;   for  several  virtues 
You  have  liked  several  women  ;  never  any 
With  so  full  soul,  but  some  defect  in  her 
Did  quarrel  with  the  noblest  grace  she  owed. 
And  put  it  to  the  foil :  But  she,  O  she. 
So  perfect  and  so  peerless,  is  created 
Of  every  creature's  best ! 


Tempest. 


I  13.  She  is  all  simplicity, 

I  A  creature  soft  and  mild  ; 

\  Though  on  the  eve  of  womanhood, 

^  In  heart  a  very  child. 


Mrs.  "Wei.by. 


14.  Who  does  not  understand  and  love  her, 
With  feeling  thus  o'erfraught  ? 
Though  silent  as  the  sky  above  her, 
Jjike  that,  she  kindles  thought. 


Dr..    GiLMAN. 


.^ 


88  I 


15.  Sacred  and  sweet  is  all  I  see  in  her. 

Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

16.  She  is 

Happy  in  all  endowments,  which  a  poet 

Could  fancy  in  his  mistress ;  being  herself 

A  school   of  goodness,  where   chaste  maids  miy 

learn, 
By  the  example  of  her  life  and  pureness, 
To  be,  as  she  is,  excellent. 

Massinger. 

17.  She  steps  like  some  glad  creature  of  the  air, 
As  if  she  read  her  fate  and  knew  it  fair ; 
In  truth,  for  fate  at  all  she  hath  no  care. 

Yet  hath  she  tears  as  well  as  gladness ; 

A  butterfly  in  pain 
Will  make  her  weep  for  very  sadness. 

But  straight  she'll  smile  again. 

A.  M.  Wells. 

18.  A  maiden  never  bold 
Of  spirit,  so  still  and  quiet,  that  her  motion 
Blush'd  at  itself. 

Othello. 

19.  She  saith  not  once  nay  when  thou  sayest  yea  ; 
{  "  Do  this,"  saith  he.     "All  ready,  sir,"  saith  she. 
\  Chaucer. 


s« 


89 


20.       Every  thought  and  feeling  throw 
Their  shadows  o'er  her  face, 
And  so  are  every  thought  and  feeling  join'd, 
'Twere  hard  to  answer  whether  heart  or  mind 
Of  either  were  the  native  place. 

Washington  Allston. 


21.  She  speaks, 

Yet  she  says  nothing  ! 


Ro?neo  and  Juliet. 


22.  She  will  weep  for  nothing,  like  Diana  in  the  foun-  ^ 

tain,  when  thou  art  disposed  to  be  merry ;  and  \ 

will  laugh  like  a  hyena,  when  thou  art  disposed  ^ 

to  sleep.  s 

As  You  Like  It.  < 


23.  Though  on  pleasure  she  is  bent. 

Goldsmith. 


She  has  a  frugal  mind. 


\  24.  Happy  in  this,  she  is  not  yet  so  old 

But  she  may  learn  ;  happier  than  this. 
She  is  not  bred  so  dull  but  she  can  learn : 
Happiest  of  all  is,  that  her  gentle  spirit 
Commits  itself  to  yours  to  be  directed. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

2-3.  Mind  is  her  best  gift,  and  poetry  her  world  ; 

And  she  will  see  strange  beauty  in  a  flower, 

As  by  a  subtle  vision. 

Willis. 

'8* 


« 


I  90 

I  26.  A  being  of  sudden  smiles  and  tears, 

^  Passionate  visions,  quick  light  and  shade. 

?  Hemans. 

\ 

\  27.  Little  she  speaks,  but  dear  attentions 

<  From  her  will  ceaseless  rise  ; 

>  She  checks  our  wants  with  kind  preventions, 

I  And  lulls  the  children's  cries. 

\  Dr.  Oilman. 

■i 

i  28.  Oh  when  she's  angr}'-,  she  is  keen  and  shrewd  ! 

'  She  was  a  vixen  when  she  went  to  school, 
And  though  she  be  but  little,  she  is  fierce. 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 


i  29.   Graceful  and  useful  all  she  does, 
\  Blessing  and  blest  where'er  she  goes. 


CoWJ'ER. 


\ 

\  30.  She  has  an  earnest  intellect,  a  perfect  thirst  of  mind , 

\  A  heart  by  elevated  thoughts  and  poetry  refined. 

\  Willis. 

\ 

,<  31.  A  timid  grace  sits  trembling  in  her  eye. 

Speaking  most  plain  the  thoughts  which  do  possess 
Her  gentle  sprite, — peace,  and  meek  quietness. 
And  innocent  love,  and  maiden  purity. 
\  Charles  Lamb. 

\  32.  She  hath  more  hair  than  wit. 
More  faults  than  hairs, 
And  more  wealth  than  faults. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

am  •^r^.ru 


!«' 


91 

33.  Her  soul  is  more  than  half  divine, 

Where,  through  some  shades  of  earthly  feeling, 
Religion's  soften'd  glories  shine, 

Like  light  through  summer  foliage  stealing. 

Moore. 

34.  She  will  turn  from  a  love-breathing  seraph  away. 
If  he  come  not  apparell'd  in  purple  and  gold. 

Mrs.  Osgood. 

35.  She  sways  her  house,  commands  her  followers. 
Takes  and  gives  back  affairs  and  their  despatch, 
With  a  most  smooth,  discreet,  and  stable  bearing. 

Twelfth  Night. 

36.  Spring  hath  no  blossom  fairer  than  her  form, 

Winter  no  snow-wreath  purer  than  her  mind. 
The  dew-drop  trembling  to  the  summer  sun 

Is  like  her  smile ;  bright,  transient,  heaven-refined 

Mrs.  Piersox.  J 


37.  She  is  a  lady  of  confirmed  honor,  of  an  urnTiatcha- 

ble  spirit,  and  determinate  in  all  virtuous  resolu- 
tions ;  not  hasty  to  anticipate  an  affront,  nor  slow    ^ 
to  feel  where  just  provocation  is  given. 

Charles  Lamd. 

38.  Her  outward  charms  are  less 
Than  her  winning  gentleness  ; 
With  maiden  purity  of  heart, 


\  92  \ 

Which,  without  the  aid  of  art, 

Does  in  coldest  hearts  inspire 

Love. 

James  Aldrich. 


39.  She  dwells  among  us  like  a  star, 
That  from  its  bovver  of  bliss 
Looks  down,  yet  gathers  not  a  stain 
From  aught  it  sees  in  this. 

Mrs.  Welby. 

I  40.  She  in  pleasant  purpose  doth  abound, 

And  greatly  joyeth  merry  tales  to  feign. 

Spenser. 


41.  Early  and  late,  at  her  soul's  gate, 
Sits  Chastity  in  warder  wise  ; 
No  thought  unchallenged,  small  or  great. 
Goes  thence  into  her  eyes  ; 
Nor  may  a  low,  unworthy  thought 
Beyond  that  virgin  warder  win, 
Nor  one,  whose  password  is  not  "  ought,"  \ 
May  go  without,  or  enter  in. 

J    R.  LOWELI. 

42.  A  light,  busy  foot  astir 
In  her  small  housewifery,  the  blithest  bee 


That  ever  wrou2[ht  in  hive. 


MiTFORD. 


93 


i 


43.  Practised  to  lisp  and  hang  the  head  aside, 

Faint  into  airs,  and  languish  into  pride. 

Pope. 

44.  She  is  ever  fair,  and  never  proud, 
Hath  tongue  at  will,  and  yet  is  never  loud. 

Othello 

45  I  call  her  richly  blest, 

In  the  calm  meekness  of  her  Avoman's  breast. 
Where  that  sweet  depth  of  still  contentment 
lies  ; 
And  for  her  household  love,  which  clinors 
Unto  all  ancient  and  familiar  thinjjs, 
Weaving   from  each  some  link  for  home's  dear 


i 


o 


charities. 

Hema^'s. 

46.  She's  peevish,  sullen,  froward, 
Proud,  disobedient,  stubborn,  lacking  duty. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

47.  No  simplest  duty  is  forgot ; 
Life  hath  no  dim  and  lowly  spot 
That  doth  not  in  her  sunshine  share. 

J.  R.  Lowell,. 

48.  Disdain  and  scorn  ride  sparkling  in  her  .eyes, 
i  Misprizing  what  they  look  on  ; — and  her  wit 
5          Values  itself  so  highly,  that  to  her 
>          All  matter  else  seems  weak. 
I  Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 


94  ' 

49.  With  despatchful  looks 
Slie  turns,  on  hospitable  thoughts  intent, 
What  choice  to  choose  for  delicacy  best, 
What  order  so  contrived  as  not  to  mix 
Tastes  not  well  join'd,  inelegant,  but  bring 
Taste  after  taste  upheld  with  kindliest  change. 

Milton. 

50.  None  so  gay  as  she  ; 
Up  hill  and  down,  morning,  and  noon,  and  night, 
Singing  or  talking  ;  singing  to  herself 
When  none  give  ear. 

Rogers — Italy. 

51.  The  green 
And  growing  leaves  of  seventeen 
Are  round  her; — and  half  hid,  half  seen, 

A  violet  flower ; 
Nursed  by  the  virtues  she  hath  been 
From  childhood's  hour. 

Hallece. 

I  52.  Blest  with  temper  whose  unclouded  ray 
Can  make  to-morrow  cheerful  as  to-day  : 
Spleen,  vapors,  or  small-pox,  above  them  all, 
And  mistress  of  herself  though  cliina  fall. 

Pope — Characters  of  Women. 

53.  Seldom  she  speaks,  but  she  will  listen 
With  all  the  signs  of  soul ; 


j  95 

I  Her  cheek  will  change,  her  eye  will  glisten, 

As  waves  of  feeling  roll. 

Dr.  Gilman. 

54.  She  bears  a  purse ;  she  is  a  region  in  Guiana,  all 

gold  and  bounty. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

55.  You  are  as  rich  in  having  sucli  a  jewel, 
As  twenty  seas,  if  all  their  sands  were  pearl, 
The  water  nectar,  and  the  rocks  pure  gold. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

56.  Oh,  she  is  a  golden  girl, 
But  a  man — a  man  should  woo  her  ! 
They  who  seek  her  shrink  aback. 
When  they  should  like  storms  pursue  her. 

Barry  Cornwall. 

57.  She  is  soft  as  the  dew-drops  that  fall 
From  the  lip  of  the  sweet-scented  pea  ; 
Perhaps  when  she  smiled  upon  all, 
Thou  hast  thought  tliat  she  smiled  upon  thee. 

Mackenzie — Man  of  Feeling 

58.  She  is  the  cause  of  six  matches  being  broken  off, 

and  three  sons  disinherited. 

Sheridan. 


< 


59.  All  her  strain 

Is  of  domestic  gladness,  fire-side  bliss. 


M. 


96 

And  household  rule ;  nor  thought  loose,  liglit,  o 


o — '  --o'--'  -•    i 


vain, 
Stains  her  pure  vision  of  meek  happiness. 

Allan  Cunningham. 

60.  She  loves,  but  'tis  not  you  she  loves, 

Not  you  on  whom  she  ponders, 
When  in  some  dream  of  tenderness 

Her  truant  fancy  wanders. 
The  forms  that  flit  her  vision  through, 

Are  like  the  shapes  of  old. 
Where  tales  of  Prince  and  Paladin 

On  tapestry  are  told. 

Man  may  not  hope  her  heart  to  win, 

Be  his  of  common  mould, 

C.  F.  Hoffman. 


\ 


WHAT    IS    THE    CHARACTER    OF    HIM 
WHO    LOVES    YOU? 


Something  that  may  serve  to  set  in  view 
The  doings,  observations  which  his  mind 
Had  dealt  with — I  will  here  record  in  verse. 

Wordsworth. 


X 
\ 


■7i 

i 


WHAT   IS   THE  CHARACTER  OF  HIM  WHO  I 
LOVES  YOU? 


J^^^^i    F  manners  gentle,  of  afTections  mild, 
[:    In  wit  a  man,  simplicity  a  ciiild. 


POPK. 


^jajjj7^a==^5;rMiiT«'  ^-  He  has  a  shrcwd  wit,  I  can  tcll  you ; 
and  he's  a  man  good  enough  ;  he's  one  of  the 
soundest  judgments,  and  a  proper  man  of  person. 

Troilus  and  Cressida. 


Love,  fame,  and  glory,  with  alternate  swav 
Thrill  his  warm  heart,  and  with  electric  rav 
Illume  his  eye  ;  yet  still  a  shade  of  care. 
Like  a  licjht  cloud  that  floats  in  summer  air. 
Will  shed  at  times  a  transitory  gloom, 
But  shadow  not  one  grace  of  manly  bloom. 

Mrs.  K.  Wake. 


{ 


4.  He  wounds  no  breast  witli  jeer  and  jest,  yet  bears  no   ^ 
honey 'd  tongue,  < 


100 

He's  social  with  tlie   gray-hair'd   one,   and  merry 
with  the  young.  > 

Eliza  Cook.  i 


f 


5.  A  shallow  brain  behind  a  serious  mask, 
An  oracle  within  an  empty  cask  ; 

He  says  but  little,  and  that  little  said 

Owes  all  its  weight,  like  loaded  dice,  to  lead. 

CowpER — Conversation. 

6.  Fearless  he  is,  and  scorning  all  disguise ; 

What  he  dares  do,  or  think,  though  men  may  start, 
He  speaks  with  mild,  yet  unaverted  eyes. 

Shelley. 

I  7.  A  lofty  spirit  his,  and  somewhat  proud ; 
Little  gallant,  and  has  a  sort  of  cloud 
Hanging  forever  on  his  cold  address. 

Leigh  Hunt — Rimini. 

8.  He  writes  brave  verses,  speaks  brave  words. 
Swears  brave  oaths,  and  breaks  them  as  bravely 
/  As  You  Like  It. 


i 


\ 


9.  In  truth  he  is  a  strange  and  wayward  wight, 
Fond  of  each  gentle  and  each  dreadful  scene  ; 
In  darkness  and  in  storm  he  finds  delight. 
Nor  less  than  when  on  ocean's  wave  serene 
The  southern  sun  displays  his  dazzling  sheen. 

Beattie — Minstrel. 


101 

10.  There  is  in  him  so  much  man,  so  much  goodness, 

So  much  of  honor,  and  of  all  things  else 

Which  make  our  being  excellent,  that  from  his  store 

He  can  enough  lend  others. 

Massinger. 

11.  He  draweth  out  the  staple  of  his  verbosity  finer  than 

the  staple  of  his  argument. 

Love's  Labour  Lost. 

12.  His  words  are  strong,  but  not  with  anger  fraught, 

A  lore  benignant  he  hath  lived  and  taught ; 

To  draw  mankind  to  heaven  by  gentleness 

And  good  example  is  his  business. 

Cjiauckr. 

13.  The  monarch-mind,  the  mystery  of  commanding, 

The  god-like  power,  the  art  Napoleon 
Of  winning,  fettering,  moulding,  wielding,  banding    \ 
The  hearts  of  millions,  till  they  move  as  one. 

Halleck. 

14.  Devout,  yet  cheerful ;  pious,  not  austere  ; 
To  others  lenient,  to  himself  severe. 

Dr.  Harvey. 

15.  With  scrupulous  care  exact,  he  walks  the  rounds 
Of  fashionable  duty  ;  laughs  whe^i  sad, 
When  merry  weeps,  deceiving  is  deceived, 


And  flattering,  flatter'd. 


POLLOK. 


9*    "~ 


102 

\  16.  A  fellow  of  infinite  jest,  of  nnost  excellent  fancy. 

Hamlet. 


17.  Erect,  morose,  determined,  solemn,  slow  ; 
Who  knows  the  man  can  never  cease  to  know. 

Crabbe. 

18.  Rare  compound  of  oddity,  frolic,  and  fun, 
To  relish  a  joke,  and  rejoice  in  a  pun  ! 

Goldsmith. 

19.  He  is  a  man 

Among  a  thousand.     Unassuming,  he 

May  yet  assume  unquestion'd.     Gentleness, 

And  a  strange  streno;th,  a  calm  o'errulinfj  strensfth, 

Are  mix'd  within  him  so,  that  neither  take 

Possession  from  the  other, — neither  rise 

In  mastery  or  passion,  but  both  grow 

Harmoniously  together. 

W.    G.    SlMMS. 


I 


;  20.  For  beauty  and  fortin'  the  laddie's  been  courtin', 
AVeel  featured,  weel  tochered,  weel  mounted  and 
braw ! 

Burns. 


.  21.  Pie  will  pick  a  quarrel  for  a  straw, 
i  And  fight  it  out  to  the  extremity. 

Charles  Lamb. 


> 


103 

22.  He  cannot  flatter  and  speak  fair, 
Smile  in  men's  faces,  smooth,  deceive,  and  coy. 
Duck  with  French  nods,  and  apish  courtesy. 

Richard  III. 

23.  A  primrose  by  the  river's  brim 

A  yellow  primrose  is  to  him, 

And  it  is  nothing  more. 

Wordsworth. 

24.  His  young  bosom  feels  the  enchantment  strong 
Of  light,  and  joy,  and  minstrelsy  and  song. 

PiERPONT — Airs  of  Palestine. 

25.  If  he  has  any  faults  he  leaves  us  in  doubt, 
At  least  in  six  weeks  we  can't  find  them  out. 

Goldsmith. 

26.  The  friend  of  man,  the  friend  of  truth, 
The  friend  of  age,  the  guide  of  youth  ; 
Few  hearts  like  his  with  virtue  warm'd, 
Few  heads  with  knowledge  so  inform'd. 

Burns. 

27.  If  his  body  were  opened,  and  you  find  so  much 

blood  in  his  liver  as  will  clog  the  foot  of  a  flea, 
I'll  eat  the  rest  of  his  anatomy. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

28.  He  hums  and  he  hankers,  he  frets  and  he  cankers. 
You  never  can  please  him,  do  a'  that  you  can ; 
He's  peevish  and  jealous  of  a'  the  young  fellows. 

Burns. 


> 
< 

>2 


\  104  ■ 


I  29.  An  ample  soul, 

Rockbound  and  fortified  against  assaults 
j  Of  transitory  passion,  but  below 

5  Built  on  a  surging,  subterraneous  fire, 

I         Tliat  stirs  and  lifts  him  up  to  high  attempts. 
>  Taylor. 


<  30.  His  very  manners  teach  to  amend, 

\  They  are  so  even,  grave  and  holy  ; 

<  No  stubbornness  so  stiff,  nor  folly 
\  To  license  ever  was  so  light, 

\  As  twice  to  trespass  in  his  sight ; 

j  His  look  would  so  correct  it  when 

\  It  chid  the  vice,  yet  not  the  men. 


Ben  Jonson. 


31.  He  thinks. 
That  he  who  fights  and  runs  away 
May  live  to  fight  another  day. 

Butler — Hudibras. 

32.  He  keeps  his  honesty  and  truth, 

His  independent  tongue  and  pen. 
And  moves  in  manhood,  as  in  youth. 
Pride  of  his  fellow-men. 

Halleck. 

33.  His  life  doth  flow 
From  its  mysterious  urn  a  sacred  stream, 
In  whose  calm  depth  the  beautiful  and  pure 


'  Valiant  us  fire  " 

Oracles  from  The  Poets,  p    105 


'5S 
105  « 

Alone  are  mirror'd  ;  which,  though  shapes  of  ill 
May  hover  round  its  surface,  glides  in  light. 
And  takes  no  shadow  from  them. 

Tai.fourd — Ion. 

34    He  is  too  costly  for  every  day, 

You  would  want  another  for  working  days. 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

35.  Strange,  that  his  nobly  fasliion'd  mould, 

In  which  a  very  god  might  dwell, 
Should  only  live  to  dig  for  gold, 
And  perish  in  its  narrow  cell ! 

BOWRING. 

36.  He  has  no  party  rage,  no  sectary's  whim  ; 
Christian  and  countryman  is  all  with  him. 

Crabbe. 

37.  Valiant  he  as  fire, 
Sliowincr  danger  more  than  ire. 
Bounteous  as  the  clouds  to  earth. 
And  as  honest  as  his  birth  ; 
All  his  actions  they  are  such 

As  to  do  no  thing  too  much  ; 

Nor  o'erpraise,  nor  yet  condemn, 
\         Nor  outvalue,  nor  contemn, 

I  Nor  do  wronfjs  nor  wrongs  receive,  I 

>  Nor  tie  knots,  nor  knots  unweave.  i 


i 


106 

From  all  baseness  to  be  free, 
As  he  durst  love  truth  and  thee. 

Ben  Jonson. 

38.  He  snuffs  far  off  the  anticipated  joy, 
Turtle  and  venison  all  his  thoughts  employ. 

COWPER. 

39.  In  his  strength 
The  mighty  oak  has  likeness  ;  gentleness 
In  him  is  like  the  rosy  parasite, 
Tlie  flush  Spring  gives  it  wrapping  it  around  \ 
AVith  sweetest  color  and  adorninfj  srrace.  \ 
His  soul,  refined  beyond  the  rustic  world,  \ 
Has  yet  no  city  vices.  He  has  kept  s 
Its  whiteness  unprofaned.                                                $ 

W,  G.  SIMMS.         I 

40.  He'll  never  learn  his  bark  to  steer  | 
'Mid  passion's  sudden,  wild  career,  5 
Nor  try  at  times  to  tack  and  veer                                  \ 

To  interest's  gale,  ^ 

But  hoist  the  sheet,  unawed  by  fear  } 

Though  storms  prevail.  | 

Hector  Macneil.           i 


1,  41.  A  fair  example  of  his  own  pure  creed, 

^         Patient  of  error,  pitiful  to  need, 

I         Persuasive  wisdom  in  his  thoughtful  mien. 


Mrs.  Sigourney. 


'■'■V^i'V  ■  -s-v  ••^•'•''^'T.'V^/N'WS/V^V 


f 


I  107 

\  42.  One  of  that  stubborn  sort  he  is, 

s 

>,  Who  if  they  once  grow  fond  of  an  opinion, 

?  They  call  it  honor,  honesty,  and  faith, 

>  And  sooner  part  with  life  than  let  it  go. 

)  RowE — Jane  Shore. 

i 

< 

J  43.  Virtue's  his  path,  but  sometimes  'tis  too  narrow 
I  For  his  vast  soul,  and  then  he  starts  wide  out, 

<  And  bounds  into  a  vice  that  bears  him  far 
I  From  his  first  course,  and  plunges  him  in  ills. 
s  Dryden — All  for  Love. 

\ 

}  44.  A  man  whom  storms  can  never  make 

< 

\  Meanly  complain,  nor  can  a  flattering  gale 

j  Make  him  talk  proudly. 

5  Dr.  Watts. 

>  45.  He'll  prattle  shrewdly  with  such  witty  folly, 

i  As  almost  betters  reason. 

j  John  Howard  Payne. 

I  4G.  Heed  not,  though  at  times  he  seem 
\  Dark  and  still,  and  cold  as  clay  ; 

\  He  is  shadow'd  by  his  dream, 

>  But  'twill  pass  away. 
!  Barry  Cor.nwall. 

< 

\  47.   He  quick  is  anger'd,  and  as  quick 

I  His  short-lived  passion's  over-past, 

<  Like  summer  lightnings,  flashing  thick, 

I  But  flvinji  ere  a  bolt  is  cast.  i 

I  E.  D.  Griffin.  ? 


I  103  I 

\  48.  ,       Oh,  he's  as  tedious  < 

i  As  a  tired  horse,  a  railing  wife, 

I  Worse  than  a  smoky  house 

5  Henry  IV. 

\  49.  Love,  the  germ 

i  Of  his  mild  nature,  hath  spread  graces  /orth, 

>  Expanding  with  its  progress  ,•  as  the  store 

i  Of  rainbow  color,  which  the  seed  conceals. 

Sheds  out  its  tints  from  its  dim  treasury 

To  fkish  and  circle  in  the  flower. 

Talfourd. — Ion 

50.  He  is but  what  need  I  say  that  or  this, 

I'd  spend  a  month  to  tell  ye  what  he  is ! 

Ramsat — Gentle  Shepherd. 

51.  With  maids  he's  softer  than  the  clouds  in  May  ; 
But  had  you  seen  him,  lady,  in  his  ire, 
When,  like  one  born  of  thunder,  he  did  march 
And  strike  down  men  as  stubble  sinks  in  fire — 
But  then  he  hath  a  tongue  could  wile 
The  laverock  from  the  cloud.  | 

Allan  Cunnlvgham.  I 


52.  Within  his  soul 

Springs  up  a  deep  sense  of  the  beautiful, 
The  holy,  the  exalted,  and  a  love 
Embracing  in  its  circle  all  creation. 


Lady  Flora  Hasi-ings. 


5^w 


109 


53.   He  so  light  is  at  legerdemain, 

ot  to  li<Th 

Spenser. 


That  what  he  touches  comes  not  to  light  again. 


54.  Though  learn'd,  well-bred  ;  and  though  well-bred, 
sincere ; 
Modestly  bold,  and  humanely  severe. 


Pope. 


55.  To  express  his  mind  to  sense, 
Would  ask  a  heaven's  intelligence, 
Since  nothing  can  report  that  flame 
But  what's  of  kin  to  whence  it  came. 

Ben  Jonson. 

56.  A  little,  upright,  pert,  tart,  tripping  wight. 
That  holds  his  precious  self  his  dear  delight, 
And  loves  his  own  smart  shadow  in  the  street. 

Burns. 

57.  No  caprice  of  mind, 
No  passing  influence  of  idle  time, 

No  popular  show,  no  clamor  from  the  crowd 
Can  move  him,  erring,  from  the  path  of  right. 

W.    G.    SiMMS. 

58.  Wasting  his  life  for  his  country's  care, 
Laying  it  down  with  a  patriot's  prayer. 

Barry  Cornwall. 


10 


110 

59.   A  man  whose  sober  soul  can  tell 
How  to  wear  her  garments  well, 
Her  garments  that  upon  her  sit 
As  garments  should  do,  close  and  fit ; 
A  well-clothed  soul,  that's  not  oppress'd 
Nor  choked  with  what  she  should  be  dress'd  ; 
A  soul  sheath'd  in  a  crystal  shrine, 
Through  which  all  her  bright  features  shine. 

Crashaw. 


60.  And  still  we  gaze,  and  still  the  wonder  grows, 
I  That  one  small  head  can  carry  all  he  knows. 

\  Goldsmith — Peserted  Village. 


i  j 


i  i 


WHAT  SEASON  OF  THE  YEAR  DO  YOU  LOVE  ? 


January  gray  is  here, 

Like  a  sexton  b3J  a  grave  ; 

February  bears  the  bier, 

March  with  grief  doth  howl  and  rave, 

And  April  weeps  ;  but  oh,  ye  liours, 

Follow  with  May's  fairest  flowers. 

SllELLEV. 

The  seasons  of  the  year, 

some  arm'd  in  silver  ice  tliat  glisten. 

And  some  in  gaudy  green,  come  in  like  masquers. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 


yi... 


K 


WHAT  SEASON  OF  THE  YEAR  DO  YOU  LOVE  ? 


HE  bold  March  wind  !  \ 

The  merry,  boisterous,   bold   March  > 

wind !  I 

Who  in  the  violet's  tender  eyes  I 

Casts  a  kiss, — and  forward  flies.  \ 

Barry  Cornwall.  $ 


2.  The  beautiful  spirit  of  Spring, 

When  the  demons  of  Winter  before  her  fly. 
While  the  gentle  fan  of  her  delicate  wing 
Repels  the  ardor  of  Summer's  eye. 

James  Nack. 


3.  Thou  lovest  the  merry  Summer  months  of  beauty, 

song,  and  flowers. 
Thou  lovest  the  gladsome  months  that  brin£f  thick 

leafiness  to  bowers ! 
Up,  up,  thy  heart,  and  walk  abroad,  fling  cark  and 

care  aside, 
Seek  silent   hills,    or    rest   thyself  where   peaceful 

waters  glide. 


:-i. 


II 


10" 


^ss 


\  114  \ 

Scan  tliroLigh  its  leaves  the  cloudless  sky  in  rapt   ? 


<; 


Or,  underneath  the  shadow  vast  of  patriarchal  tree, 
through  its 
tranquillity. 


Motherwell. 


The  eventide  of  Summer,  when  the  trees  < 

Yield  their  fresh  honors  to  the  passing  breeze,  ^ 

And  woodland  paths  with  autumn  tints  are  dyed ;  ;; 

When  the  mild  sun  his  paling  lustre  shrouds  \ 

In  gorgeous  draperies  of  golden  clouds.  \ 

Mrs.  E.  C.  Embury.  \ 


5.  When  on  the  breath  of  Autumn  breeze, 

From  pastures  dry  and  brown, 
Goes  floating,  like  an  idle  thought, 
The  fair  white  thistle-down. 

Mary  Howitt. 

6.  A  day  of  Winter  beauty.     Through  the  night 
The  hoar-frost  gather'd  o'er  each  leaf  and  spray, 
Weaving  its  filmy  net-work,  thin  and  bright, 
And  shimmering  like  silver  in  the  ray 

Of  the  soft  sunny  morning  ; — turf  and  tree 
Prank'd  in  delicate  embroidery. 
And  every  wither'd  stump  and  mossy  stone 
With  gems  encrusted  and  with  seed-pearls  sown  ! 

Mrs.  Whitman. 

7.  When  May, 
With  her  cap  crown'd  with  roses. 


\ 


the  Highest. 


Longfellow. 


115 

Stands  in  her  holiday  dress  in  the  fields,  and  the 
wind  and  the  brooklet  I 

Murmur  gladness  and  peace,  God's  peace !  with 
lips  rosy  tinted, 

Whisper  the  race  of  the  flowers,  and  merry,  on 
balancing  branches, 

Birds  are  singing  their   carol,  a  jubilant  hymn  to 


8.  Auiwnn  eventide; 
When  sinking  on  the  blue  hill's  breast,  the  sun 
Spreads  the  large  bounty  of  his  level  blaze, 
Lengthening  the  shade  of  mountains  and  tall  trees. 

George  Lunt. 

9.  When  on  a  keen  December  niffht,  Jack  Frost  \ 
^    Drives  through  mid  air  his  chariot  icy-wheel'd,      \ 

And  from  the  sky's  crisp  ceiling,  star-emboss'd. 
Whiffs  off  the  clouds  that  the  pure  blue  concealed.  ■, 

Tennent — Ansier  Fair.  I 

10.  When  Spring,  advancing,  calls  her  feather'd  quire. 
And  tunes  to  softer  notes  her  laughing  lyre ; 
Musk'd  in  the  rose's  lap  fresh  dews  are  shed. 
And  breathe  celestial  lustres  round  her  head. 

Darwin. 


>  11.  June  with  its  roses, June  ! 

\  The  gladdest  month  of  the  capricious  year,  \ 


■16 
116 

With  its  thick  foliage,  and  its  sunlight  clear, 

And  with  a  drowsy  tune 
Of  the  bright  leaping  waters,  as  they  pass 
Laughingly  on,  amid  the  springing  grass  ! 

W.  H.  Bl'rleigh. 

12.  When  Autumn,  like  a  faint  old  man,  sits  down 
By  the  wayside,  a-weary. 

Longfellow. 

13.  Winter,  shod  with  fleecy  snow, 

Who  cometh  white,  and  cold,  and  mute, 
Lest  he  should  wake  the  Spring  below. 

Barry  Cornwall. 

i  14.  When  the  south  wind  in  May  days, 

iWith  a  net  of  shining  haze, 
Silvers  the  horizon  wall ; 
And  with  softness  touching  all, 
Tints  the  human  countenance 
With  a  color  of  romance, 
And  infusing  gentle  heats. 
Turns  the  sod  to  violets. 
i  R.  W.  Emerson. 

i  15,  When  Springes  unfolded  blooms 

\  Exhale  in  sweetness,  that  the  skilful  bee 

<  May  taste,  at  will,  from  their  selected  spoils, 

;  To  work  her  dulcet  sweet. 

5  Akenside — Pleasures  of  the  Imagination,  \ 


117  I 

16.  The  joyous  Winter  days,  a 

Wlien  sits  the  soul  intense,  collected,  cool,  \ 

Bright  as  the  skies,  and  as  the  season  keen.  \ 

I. 
Thomson.  \ 


•> 


^ 


i 


17.  The  Spring,  as  she  passes  along 

With  her  eye  of  light,  and  her  lip  of  song. 

W.  G.  Clark. 

18.  Octoher  !  Heaven's  delicious  breath, 
When  woods  begin  to  wear  the  crimson  leaf. 
And  suns  grow  meek,  and  the  meek  sun  grows 

brief. 
And  the  year  smiles,  as  drawing  near  its  death. 

W.  C.  Bryant. 

19.  The  Afril  rain  !  the  April  rain  ! 

To  list  the  pleasant  sound, 
Now  soft  and  still  like  gentle  dew, 

Now  drenching  all  the  ground. 
Pray  tell  me  why  an  April  shower 

Is  pleasanter  to  see, 
Than  falling  drops  of  other  rain  ? 

I'm  sure  it  is  to  thee. 

Mrs.  Seba  Smith. 


20.  Spring,  when  from  yon  blue-topp'd  mountain 

She  leaves  her  green  print  'neath  each  spreading 
tree,  \ 


118 

Her  tuneful  voice  beside  the  swelling  fountain 
Giving  sweet  notes  to  its  wild  melody. 

Julia  II.  Scott. 


21.  A  season  atioeen  June  and  May., 
Half  prankt  with  Spring,  with  summer  half  em- 

brown'd.  \ 

Thomson — Castle  of  Indolence.  ^ 

\ 

22.  When  comes  the  calm,  mild  day,  as  still  such  days   I 

will  come,  I 

To  call  the  squirrel  and  the  bee  from  out  their  win-  ^ 

ter  home  ;  \ 

When  the  sound  of  dropping  nuts  is  heard,  though  > 

all  the  trees  are  still, 

And  twinkle  in  the  smoky  light  the  waters  of  the  i 

rill ;  \ 

The  south   wind  searches  for   the   flowers   whose  \ 

fragrance  late  he  bore. 
And  sighs  to  find  them  in  the  wood,  and  by  the 

stream  no  more. 

W.  C.  Bryant. 

23.  Brave  Winter  and  thou  shalt  ever  agree, 
Though  a  stern  and  frowning  gaffer  is  he  ; 
You  like  to  hear  him,  with  hail  and  rain, 
Come  tapping  against  the  window  pane  ; 
You  joy  to  see  him  come  marching  forth, 


Begirt  with  the  icicle  gems  of  the  north  ;   ■ 


.K 


119 

But  you  like  him  best  when  he  comes  bedight 
In  his  velvet  robes  of  stainless  white. 

Eliza  Cook. 


\  24.  When  "  adieu !"  father  Winter  has  sadly  said 
To  the  world,  when  about  withdrawing, 
With  his  old  white  wig  half  off  his  head, 
And  his  icicle  fingers  thawing  f 

Miss  II.  F.  Gould. 

25.  Gentle  May, 
She  with  her  robe  of  flowers  ; 

She  with  her  sun  and  sky,  her  clouds  and  showers ! 
Who  bringeth  forth  unto  the  eye  of  day, 
From  their  imprisoning  and  my.sterious  night. 
The  buds  of  many  hues,  the  children  of  her  light. 

J.  Lawrence,  Jr. 

26.  The  last  days  o?  Autumn,  when  the  corn 
Lies  sweet  and  mellow  in  the  harvest-field. 
And  the  gay  company  of  reapers  bind 
The  bearded  wheat  in  sheaves. 

I.  McLellan. 

27.  Drear  Winter  f 

With  no  unholy  av/e  we  hear  thy  voice, 

As  by  our  dying  embers,  safely  housed. 

We  in  deep  silence    iuse. 

H.  K.  White. 


•^/\/^.'\/^/v^   » 


i! 


120 

28.  You  love  to  go  in  the  capricious  days 
Of  April,  and  hunt  violets,  when  the  rain 

Is  in  their  blue  cups,  trenribling  as  they  nod 
So  gracefully,  to  kisses  of  the  wind. 

N.  P.  Willis. 

29.  Merry,  ever  merry  May  ! 

Made  of  sun-gleams,  shades,  and  showers, 
Bursting  buds,  and  breathing  flowers  ; 
Dripping-lock'd,  and  rosy-vested, 
Violet-slipper'd,  rainbow-crested, 
Girdled  with  the  eglantine, 


Festoon'd  with  the  flowering  vine ! 


Gallagher. 


30.  When  the  warm  sun  is  failing,  the  bleak  wind  is 

vv'ailing. 

The  bare  boughs  are  sighing,  the  pale  flowers  are 

dying. 

And  the  year. 

On  the  earth  her  death-bed,  in  a  shroud  of  leaves 

dead, 

Is  lying. 

Shelley. 


31.  When  the  angel  of  dread  TFmier  cometh,  j 

5 


L 


But  not  in  anger.     As  he  speeds  along. 
Borne  on  the  chilling  wind,  he  bids  appear 
A  thousand  varied  hues  t!  >  trees  among ! 
What  magic  beauty  doth  1.  j  presence  fling 


-^ 


a- 

i 


121 


{  Round  every  leaf  that  quivers  in  the  dell, 

I  Or  shrub  that  to  the  mountain  side  doth  clinjj ! 

i 

^  And  the  bright  scene  the  calnti  lake  mirrors  well, 

I  As  if  within  its  depths  were  wove  some  golden  spell. 

I  H.  F.  Harrington. 


32.  Delicious  Spring  ! 

Nursed  in  the  lap  of  thin  and  subtle  showers. 

Which  fall  from  clouds  that  lift  their  snowy  wing  i 
From  odorous  buds  of  light-enfolded  flowers, 
And  from  enmassed  bowers,  » 

That  over  grassy  walks  their  greenness  fling. 

Albert  Pike. 

o3.  The  Summer,  the  radiant  Summer's  the  fairest. 

For  green  woods  and  mountains,  for  meadows 

and  bowers. 

For  waters  and  fruits,  and  for  flowers  the  rarest, 

And  for  bright  shining  butterflies,  lovely  as  flow. 

ers. 

Mary  Howitt. 

34.    When  September's  golden  day. 

Serenely  still,  intensely  bright, 
Fades  on  the  umber'd  hills  away 


And  melts  into  the  coming  night. 


;  Mrs.  Whitman 

\  3.3.  When  Autumn  chills  the  foliage,  and  sheds 

\  O'er  the  piled  leaves,  among  the  evergreens, 

<  All  colors  and  all  tints  to  grace  the  scene. 
J  RuFus  Dawes. 


122  \ 

I 

36.  Ho!  jewel-keeper  of  the  hoary  North!  5 

Whence  hast  thou  all   thy  treasures  ?    Why,  the  | 

mines  \ 

Of  rich  Golconda,  since  the  world  was  young,  | 

Would  fail  to  furnish  such  a  glorious  show !  \ 

Yes,  the  Wintry  king,  < 

So  long  decried,  hath  revenue  more  rich  < 

Than  sparkling  diamonds  !  i 

Mrs.  Sigourney.  > 


37.  When  Spring  ? 

From  sunny  slopes  comes  wandering,  ■ 

Calling  violets  from  the  sleep,  ^ 

That  bound  them  under  the  snow-drift  deep, 
To  open  their  childlike,  asking  eyes 

5  On  the  new  summer  paradise. 

?  J.  R.  Lowell 

\ 

\  38.  Autumn  !  how  lovely  is  thy  pensive  air  ! 

I  But  chief  the  sounds  from  thy  reft  woods  delight ; 

Their  deep,  low  murmurs  to  the  soul  impart 

A  solemn  stillness. 

Mrs.  Tig  he — Psyche 

.  i 

I  39.  When  Winter  nights  grow  long,  \ 

And  winds  without  blow  cold,  : 

And  we  sit  in  a  ring  round  the  warm  hearth-fire,       :; 

And  listen  to  stories  old.  ^ 

Barry  Cornwall.  > 


123 

40.  Spring; 

When  blushing  like  a  bride  from  Hope's  trim  bower, 
She  leaps,  awakened  by  the  pattering  shower. 

Coleridge. 


and  strew  the  graves  of  the  dead. 


Their  ffather'd  fragrance  flinfj. 

o  o  o 


Gray. 


41.  Autumn  dark  on  the  mountains ;  when  gray  mists  ; 

rest  on  the   hills.     The  whirlwind  is  heard  on  ; 

the  heath.     Dark   rolls   the    river  through  the  \ 

narrow  plain.     The  leaves  whirl  with  the  wind,  \ 


t 
\ 

OSSUN.  i 


<  42.  When  the  rosy-bosom'd  Hours,  > 

I  Fair  Venus'  train,  appear ;  | 

\         Disclose  the  long-expected  flowers, 

\  And  wake  the  purple  year. 

i  The  attic  warbler  pours  her  throat. 

Responsive  to  the  cuckoo's  note. 

The  untaught  harmony  of  Spring  ; 
While,  whispering  pleasure  as  they  fly, 
Cool  zephyrs,  through  the  clear  blue  sky, 


I  43.  When  golden  Autumn  from  her  open  lap 

\  The  fragrant  bounty  showers. 

I  SoMERViLLE — The  Chace. 

44.  Dark  Winter  is  a  happy  time  :  | 

God  gives  the  earth  repose,  and  earth  bids  man         | 


I 


:s 


124 

Wipe  his  hot  brow ;  the  poet  pours  his  rhyme, 

And  mirth  awakes. 

Allan  Cunningham. 


45,  When  Spring-tide  approaches ;       } 

Leaf  by  leaf  is  developed,   and   warm'd  by  the 

radiant  sunshine. 
Blushes  with  purple  and  gold,  till  at  last  the  per- 
fected blossom  i 
Opens  its  odorous  chalice,  and  rocks  witli  its  crown  I 

to  the  breeze.  \ 

Longfellow.  > 


\  46.  The  first  day  of  May, 

I  When  the  sun  is  rejoicing  alone  in  heaven, 

I  The  clouds  have  all  hurried  away. 

J  Down  in  the  meadow  the  blossoms  are  wakmg,  ^ 

\  Light  on  their  twigs  the  young  leaves  are  shaking,    ^ 

I  Round  the  warm  knolls  the  lambs  are  a-leaping,        | 

^  The  colt  from  his  fold  o'er  the  pasture  is  sweeping, 

And  on  the  bright  lake. 

The  little  waves  break, 
For  there  the  cool  west  is  at  play. 

J.  G.  Percival. 


I  47.  The  desolate  and  dying  year, 
Yet  lovely  in  its  lifelessness. 
As  beauty  stretch'd  upon  the  bier. 

In  death's  clay-cold  and  dark  caress ;  \ 


I  125 

\ 

There's  loveliness  in  its  decay, 

Which  breathes,  which  lingers  on  it  still. 

J.  G.  Bkooks. 

I  48.  Pale,  rugged  Winter,  bending  o'er  his  tread, 
\  His  grizzled  hair  bcdropi,  with  icy  dew  ; 

His  eyes  a  dusky  light,  congeal'd  and  dead, 
His  robe  a  tinge  of  bright  ethereal  blue. 

Chatterton. 

49.  The  uncertain  glory  of  an  April  day, 

Which  now  shows  all  the  beauty  of  the  skies. 
And  by  and  by  a  cloud  takes  all  away. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

50.  When  the  sun 
More  darkly  tinges  Spring's  fair  brow. 

And  laughing  fields  have  just  begun 
The  Summer's  golden  hues  to  show  ; 

Earth  still  with  flowei-s  is  richly  dight, 
And  the  last  rose  in  gardens  bides  to  glow. 

George  Bancroft. 

51.  The  pryde,  the  manhode  of  the  yeare. 

When  eke  the  ground  is  dight  in  its  most  deft* 

aumere.")" 

Rowley — {Chatterton.) 

52.  An  Autumn  night 
With  a  piercing  sight. 

And  a  step  both  strong  and  free ; 

*  Ornamental.  t  Mantle. 


3! 


i 


i 


120 

And  a  voice  for  wonder, 
Like  the  wrath  of  the  thunder, 
When  he  shouts  to  the  stormy  sea ! 

Barry  Cornwall. 

53.  When  Springes  first  gale 
Comes  forth  to  whisper  where  the  violets  lie. 

Mrs.  Hemans. 

54.  When 
The  breath  of  Winter  comes  from  far  awav. 

And  the  rich  west  continually  bereaves  { 

Of  some  gold  tinge,  and  plays  a  roundelay  5 

Of  death  among  the  bushes  and  the  leaves.  \ 

Keats.  J 

55.  When  Spring  pours  out  his  showers,  as  is  his  wont,    ^ 
And  bathes  the  breathing  tresses  of  meek  eve.  \ 

Collins.  X 

56.  Autumn  skies,  when  all  the  woods  are  huncr  \ 
With  many  tints,  the  fading  livery 
Of  life,  in  which  it  mourns  the  coming  storms 
Of  winter  ;  when  the  quiet  winds  awake 
Faint  dirges  in  the  wither'd  leaves,  and  breathe 
Their  sorrow  through  the  grove. 

Percival. 


57.  Sweet  Spring,  full  of  sweet  days  and  roses, 
i  A  box  where  sweets  compacted  lie. 

I  Old  Herbert. 


i  127  i 

I  58.  When  a  soft  haze  is  hanj^ins:  o'er  the  hill, 

j  Tinged  with  a  purple  light.     How  beautiful, 

I  And  yet  how  cold  !  'Tis  the  first  robe  put  on 

5  By  sad  October. 

<  W.  G.  Sums. 


< 


59.  Spring  doeth  all  she  can,  I  trow ; 
She  brings  the  bright  hours. 
She  weaves  the  sweet  flowers. 
She  dresseth  her  bowei's 

For  all  below. 

Barry  Cornwall. 

60.  Spring  ibne, 
Which  crumbles  Winter's  gyves  with  tender  might, 
When  in  the  genial  breeze,  (the  breath  of  God,) 
Come  spouting  up  the  unseal'd  springs  to  light. 
Flowers  start  from  their  dark  prisons  at  our  feet, 
\nd  woods,  long  dumb,  awake  to  hymnings  sweet. 

Bryant. 


WHAT    HOUR    DO    YOU    LOVE? 


Mysterious  round !  what  skill,  what  force  divine, 
Deep  felt,  in  these  appear  !    A  simple  train 
Yet  so  delightful,  mix'd  with  such  kind  art. 
Such  beauty  and  beneficence  combined, 
Shade  unperceived  so  softening  into  shade, 
And  all  so  forming  an  harmonious  whole. 
That  as  they  still  succeed,  they  ravish  still. 

Tjiomson 

The  winged  Hours ! 
Commission'd  in  alternate  watch  they  stand. 
The  sun's  bright  portals,  and  the  skies,  command; 
Close  or  unfold  the  eternal  gates  of  day. 
Bar  heaven  with  clouds,  or  roll  those  clouds  away. 

Dryden's  Virgii.. 


WHAT  HOUR  DO  YOU  LOVE  ? 


HEN,  from  ebon  streak, 

The  moon  puts  forth  a  little  diamond 

peak, 
No  bigger  than  an  unobserved  star. 
Or  tiny  point  of  fairy  cimeter  ; 
Bright  signal,  that  she  only  stoops  to  tie  I 
Her  silver  sandals,  ere  deliciously 
She  bows  into  the  heavens  her  timid  head. 

Keats. 

When  morning  cometh,  with  a  still 

And  gliding  mystery,  on  the  breaking  gray 

Of  the  fresh  east. 

W.    G.    SIMMS. 


I  3.  When  the  stars  are  out — 

^  Cold,  but  still  beautiful, — a  crowded  choir. 

}  Harmonious  in  their  heavenly  minstrelsy. 

>  Ruius  Dawes. 


7i^ 


it 


132 

4.  When  blue-eyed  day 
Has  yielded  up  her  regency,  and  night, 
Exceeding  beautiful,  resumes  her  right 
As  solemn  watchman. 

Miss  M.  E.  Lee. 

5.  When  sunk  the  sun,  and  up  the  eastern  heaven. 
Like  maiden  on  a  lonely  pilgrimage, 

Moves  the  meek  star  of  eve. 

MiLMAN 

6.  When  Phcebus,  fresh  as  bridegroom  to  his  mate, 
Comes  dauncing  forth,  shaking  his  dewie  hayre. 
And  hurls  his  glistering  beams  through  gloomy  ayre. 

Spenser. 

I  7.  When  on  the  sunlit  limits  of  the  night, 

Her  white  shell  trembling  amid  crimson  air. 

Glides  the  young  moon. 

Shelley. 

8.  When  clouds  lay  cradled  near  the  setting  sun, 
And  gleams  of  crimson  tinge  their  braided  snow. 

Wilson. 

^  9,  When  the  glorious  sun  has  gone, 

And  the  gathering  darkness  of  night  conies  on  ; 
Like  a  curtain  from  God's  kind  hand  it  flows. 
To  shade  the  couch  where  his  children  repose. 

H.  Ware,  Jr. 


« 


I  133 

10.  You  love  the  deep,  deep  pause,  that  reigns 
At  highest  noon,  o'er  hills  and  plains. 

<  Carrington. 

11.  When  the  stars  do  disappear, 
With  only  one  remaining, 

The  morning  star  alone  ; 
Just  like  a  maid  complaining. 
When  all  her  hopes  are  gone. 

William  Craftb. 

12.  When  climbs  above  the  eastern  bar 

The  horned  moon,  with  one  bright  star 

Within  the  nether  lip. 

Coleridge. 

<  13.  When  comes  forth  the  glorious  day, 
Like  a  bridegroom  richly  dight, 

And  before  his  flashing  ray 

Flies  the  sullen,  vanquish'd  night. 

S.    G.    BULFINCH. 


\  14.  When  Apollo  doth  devise 

A  new  apparelling  for  western  skies. 


Keats. 


15.  Ere  the  evening  lamps  are  lighted, 

And  like  phantoms,  grim  and  tall. 

Shadows,  from  the  fitful  fire-light, 

\  Dance  upon  the  parlor  wall. 

\  Longfellow. 


134  i 

16.  When  like  a  dying  lady,  lean  and  pale, 
Who  totters  forth,  wrapp'd  in  a  gauzy  veil, 
Out  of  her  chamber,  led  by  the  insane 
And  feeble  wanderings  of  her  fading  brain, 
The  moon  arises  on  the  murky  earth. 

Shelley. 

17.  Morning  in  your  garden,  when  each  leaf  of  crisped 

green 
Hangs  tremulous  in  diamonds,  with  em'rald  rays 

between. 

It  is  the  birth  of  nature,  baptized  in  early  dew. 

The  plants  look  meekly  up  and  smile  as  if  their 

God  they  knew. 

Mrs.  Gjlman. 


18.  Ah,  let  the  gay  the  roseate  morning  hail, 

When,  in  the  various  blooms  of  light  array'd. 
She  bids  fresh  beauty  live  along  the  vale. 
And  rapture  tremble  in  the  vocal  shade. 
Sweet  is  the  lucid  morning's  opening  flower, 

Her  choral  melodies  benicrnlv  rise  ; 
Yet  dearer  to  your  soul  the  shadowy  hour 

At  which  her  blossoms  close,  her  music  dies. 

Miss  H.  M.  Williams. 


i 


19.  The  middle  tvatch  of  a  summer's  7iighl, 

When  earth  is  dark,  but  the  heavens  are  bright ; 

Naught  is  seen  in  the  vault  on  high, 

But  the  moon,  and  the  stars,  and  the  cloudless  sky. 


'« 


135 

And  the  flood,  which  rolls  its  milky  hue, 
A  river  of  white  on  the  welkin  blue. 

Drake. 

!  20.  When  little  birds  begin  discourse. 

In  quick,  low  voices,  ere  the  streaming  light 
Pours  on  their  nests  from  out  the  day's  fresh  source. 

R.  H.  Dana. 

* 

21.  Morning,  when  the  sun  pours  his  first  light 
Amid  a  forest,  and  with  ray  aslant, 

\  Entering  its  depth,  illumes  the  branchless  pines, 

i  Brightening  their  bark,  tinging  with  redder  hue 

\  Its  rusty  stains,  and  casting  on  the  eaith 

Long  lines  of  shadow,  where  they  rise  erect 

Like  pillars  of  a  temple. 

SouTHEY — Madoc. 

22.  Sunrise,  slanting  on  a  city,  when 

j  The  early  risen  poor  are  coming  in, 

;  Duly  and  cheerfully  to  toil,  and  up 

I  Rises  the  hammer's  clink,  with  the  far  hum 

I  Of  moving  wheels,  and  multitudes  astir, 

I  And  all  that  in  a  city  inurmur  swells. 

\  N.  P.  Wiixis. 


5 


'/>■?.  When  the  west 

Opens  her  golden  bowers  o^  rest, 
And  a  moist  radiance  from  the  skies 
Shoots  trembling  down,  as  from  the  eyes 


■.^^jv^-^-s. 


136 


<  Of  some  meek  penitent,  whose  last 

>  Bright  hours  atone  for  dark  ones  past, 

I  And  whose  sweet  tears  o'er  wrong  forgiven, 

\  Shine,  as  they  fall,  with  light  from  heaven. 

i  Moore — Lalla  Rookk. 


24.  The  midnight  hour,  when 

Slow  through  the  studious  gloom,  thy  pausing  eye, 
Led  by  the  glimmering  taper,  moves  around 
The  sacred  volumes  of  the  dead. 

Akenside — Pleasures  of  the  Imagination. 

25.  When  evening's  virgin  Queen 
Sits  on  her  frino-ed  throne  serene, 
And  mingling  whispers,  rising  near. 
Steal  on  the  still  reposing  ear. 

H.  K.  White, 


I  26.  When  the  moon  riseth  as  if  dreaming, 

\  Treading  with  still  white  feet  the  lulled  sea. 

\  From  the  Etonian. 

\  27.  AVhen  day  hath  put  on  his  jacket,  and  around 

\  His  burnin<?  bosom  button'd  it  with  stars. 

t  O.  W.  H0LME8. 


28.  Morning,  with  all  her  attributes  ;  the  tsi-aw  \ 

Impearling  of  the  heavens,  the  sparkling  white  > 

On  the  webb'd  grass,  the  fragrant  mistiness,  5 

5  The  fresh  airs,  with  the  twinkling  leaves  at  sport,  \ 

\  i 


^%/^^-•v^/vW  ■ 


'■?s 


137 

And  all  the  gradual  and  emerging  light, 
The  crystalline  distinctness  settling  clear, 
And  all  the  wakening  of  strengthening  sound. 

MiLMAN — Lord  of  the  Bright  City. 

29.  Her  twilight  robe  when  nature  wears, 

\  And  evening  sheds  her  sweetest  tears. 

Which  every  thirsty  plant  receives. 

While  silence  trembles  on  the  leaves. 

From  every  tree,  and  flower,  and  bush, 

There  seems  to  breathe  a  soothing  hush, 

While  every  transient  sound  but  shows 

How  deep  and  still  is  the  repose. 

Mrs.  Follen. 


cS^-' 


I  30.  When  as  the  evening  shades  prevail, 
]  The  moon  takes  up  her  wondrous  tale. 

And,  nightly,  to  the  listening  earth 
Proclaims  the  story  of  her  birth. 
While  all  the  stars  that  round  her  burn, 
And  all  the  planets  in  their  turn, 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll, 
And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 


Addison. 


31.  When  thronging  constellations  rush  in  crowds, 
Paving  with  fire  the  sky. 


Shelley. 


32.  A  beautiful  sunset,  when  warm  o'er  the  lake 

Its  splendor,  at  parting,  a  summer  eve  throws. 


12* 


138 

Like  a  bride  full  of  blushes,  when  linsrerinfr  to  take 
A  last  look  of  her  mirror  at  night  ere  she  goes. 

Moore — Lalla  Rookh. 

33.  The  midnight  hour, 

The  starlight  wedding  of  the  earth  and  heaven, 
When  music  breathes  in  perfume  from  the  flower, 
And  high  revealings  to  the  heart  are  given. 

S.  L.  Fairfield. 


34.  Weel  may'st  thou  welcome  the  night's  deathly  reign, 
Wi'  souls  of  the  dearest  ye're  mingling  then  ; 

The  gowd  light  o'  mornin'  is  lightless  to  thee, 
But,  oh  !  for  the  night  wi'  its  ghost  revelrie. 

William  Thom. 

35.  Come,  stir  the  fire,  and  close  the  shutters  fast; 
Let  fall  the  curtains,  wheel  the  sofa  round  ; 
And  while  the  bubbling  and  loud  hissing:  urn 
Throws  up  a  steamy  column,  and  the  cups 
That  cheer  but  not  inebriate,  wait  on  each, 

I  So  will  you  welcome  cheerful  evening  in. 

I  CowpER — Task. 

> 

> 

\  36.  When  the  moon 

\  Bends  her  new  silver  bow,  as  if  to  fling 

I  Her  arrowy  lustre  through  some  vapor's  wing. 

5  Park  Benjamin. 

37.  Be  it  the  summer  noon  ;  a  sandy  space 
The  ebbing  tide  has  left  upon  its  place, 


^  139 

>  While  the  broad  basin  of  the  ocean  keeps 
5          An  equal  motion,  swelling  as  it  sleeps, 

Then,  slowly  sinking,  curling  to  the  strand, 
Faint,  lazy  waves  o'er-creep  the  ridgy  sand. 
Ships  in  the  calm  seem  anchor'd,  for  they  glide 
On  the  still  sea,  urged  solely  by  the  tide. 

Crabbe. 

38.  Night;  when  the  stars  are  gemming  heaven, 
And  seem  like  angels'  eyes, 
Resuming  still  their  silent  watch 
I  Within  the  far-off  skies. 

i  When  tenderly  they  gaze  on  us, 

^  Those  children  of  the  air, 

^  While  every  ray  they  send  to  us 

I  Some  message  seems  to  bear. 

]  Miss  Lewis. 

<,  39.  The  Sabhath  morn 

\  So  sweet ; — all  sounds  save  nature's  voice  are  still ; 

i  Mute  shepherd's  song-pipe,  mute  the  harvest  horn, 

>  A  holier  tongue  is  given  to  brook  and  rill ; 
]  Old  men  climb  silently  their  cottage-hill, 

j  There  ruminate,  and  look  sublime  abroad. 

Shake  from  their  feet,  as  thought  on  thought  comes 

still. 
The  dust  of  life's  long,  dark,  and  dreary  road. 
And  rise  from  this  gross  earth,  and  give  the  day  to 
God. 

Thomas  Miller. 


^ 


140  i 

40.  When  the  fair  young  moon  in  a  silver  bow 
I  Looks  back  from  the  bending  west, 

Like  a  weary  soul  that  is  glad  to  go 

To  the  long-sought  place  of  rest. 
When  her  crescent  lies  in  a  beaming  crown, 

On  the  distant  hill's  dark  head, 
Serene  as  the  righteous  looking  down 

On  the  world  from  his  dying-bed. 

Miss  H.  F.  Gould. 

41.  When  gleaming  through  the  gorgeous  fold 
Of  clouds,  around  his  glory  roU'd, 
The  orb  of  gold,  half  hid,  half  seen, 
Swells  his  rays  of  tremulous  sheen. 
That,  widely  as  the  billows  roll, 
Glance  quivering  on  their  distant  goal. 

SoTHEBY — Constance  de  Castile. 

42.  When,  like  lobster  boiled,  the  jnorn 
From  black  to  red  begins  to  turn. 

Butler — Hudibras. 

\  43.  When  in  mid  air,  on  seraph  wing. 
The  paly  moon  is  journeying 
In  stillest  paths  of  stainless  blue. 
Keen,  curious  stars  are  peering  through 
Heaven's  arch  this  hour ;  they  dote  on  he.! 
With  perfect  love,  nor  can  she  stir 
Within  her  vaulted  halls  apace,  \ 

v5S 


141  I 

Ere,  rushing  out  with  joyous  face,  \ 

These  Godkins  of  the  sky  | 

Smile  as  she  glides  in  loveliness, 
While  every  heart  beats  high 

With  passion,  and  breaks  fortli  to  bless 
Her  loftier  divinity. 

Motherwell. 


I  44.  When  comes  still  evening  on,  and  twilight  gray 

\  Hath  in  her  sober  livery  all  things  clad, 

I  Silence  accompanying. 

i  Milton — Paradise  Lost. 


45.  When  calm  the  grateful  air,  and  loth  to  lose  i 

Day's  grateful  warmth,  though  moist  with  falling  I 

dews ;  5 

Look  for  the  stars,  you'll  say  that  there  are  none  ;  ^ 

Look  up  a  second  time,  and  one  by  one  ] 

You  mark  them  twinkle  out,  with  silvery  light,  I 
And  wonder  how  they  could  elude  your  sight. 

Wordsworth.  ^ 


46.  When  your  fire,  with  dim  unequal  light, 

Just  glimmering,  bids  each  shadowy  image  fall 
Sombrous  and  strange  upon  the  darkening  wall. 


\ 


Ere  the  clear  taper  chase  the  deepening  night.  { 

W.  L.  Bowles.  \ 


I  47.  When  the  sun's  broad  orb  { 

<  Seems  resting  on  the  burnish'd  wave,  < 


142 

<  And  lines 

I  Of  purple  gold  hang  motionless, 

5  Above  the  sinking  sphere. 


Shelley. 


i  48.  Morn  breaking  in  the  east.     When  purple  clouds 

\  Are  putting  on  their  gold  and  violet, 

\  To  look  the  meeter  for  the  sun's  bright  coming. 


i 


N.  P.  Willis. 


49.  When  the  day 

In  golden  slumber  sinks,  with  accent  sweet 
Mild  evening  comes,  to  lure  the  willing  feet 

With  her  to  stray, 
Where'er  the   bashful  flowers  the  observant  eye 
may  greet. 

H.  Pickering. 

{  50.  The  light  o(  midnight  skies 

When  the  red  meteor  rides  the  cloud. 

Miss  Landon. 

5  51.                                           When  at  7ioo7i,  / 

\  Hifjh  on  his  throne,  the  visible  lord  of  light  ^ 

\  Rides  in  his  fullest  blaze,  and  dashes  wide  i 

i  Thick  flashes  from  his  wheels.  \ 

<                                                                   J.  G.  Percival.  I 

52.  Night  on  the  waves,  when  the  moon  is  on  high,  > 

Hung  like  a  gem  on  the  brow  of  the  sky,  < 


K^ 


/ 


143 

Treading  its  depths  in  the  power  of  her  might, 
And  turning  the  clouds  as  they  pass  her  to  light. 

J.  K.  Hekvey. 


53.  When  yonder  western  throng  of  clouds 

Retiring  from  the  sky, 
So  calmly  move,  so  softly  glow, 

They  seem,  to  fancy's  eye. 
Bright  creatures  of  a  better  sphere, 
Come  down  at  noon  to  worship  here, 
And  from  their  sacrifice  of  love 


Returning  to  their  courts  above. 


G.  D.  Prentice. 


54.  When  the  moon,  her  lids  unclosing,  deigns 

To  smile  serenely  on  the  charmed  sea, 
That  shines,  as  if  inlaid  with  lightning  chains. 
From  which  it  hardly  struggled  to  be  free. 

Epes  Sargent. 

55.  The  high  festival  of  mght, 
When  earth  is  radiant  with  delight, 
And  fast  as  weary  day  retires 
The  heaven  unfolds  its  secret  fires, 
Bricht,  as  when  first  the  firmament 
Around  the  new-made  world  was  bent, 
And  infant  seraphs  pierced  the  blue, 

5  Till  rays  of  heaven  came  shining  through  I 

I  W.  B.  O.  Peabody.  I 


> 


{  144 


\ 


i 


56.  When  the  sun 
Rises,  visiting  earth  with  light,  and  heat, 
And  joy  ;  and  seems  as  full  of  youth,  and  strong 
To  mount  the  steep  of  heaven,  as  when  the  stars 
Of  mornina:  sanij  to  his  first  dawn. 

PoLLOK — Course  of  Time. 

57.  Let  others  hail  the  oriflamme  of  morn, 

O'er  kindling  hills  unfurl'd,  with  gorgeous  dyes,   { 
Oh,  mild  blue  evening,  still  to  thee  we  turn, 
With  holier  thoughts  and  with  undazzled  eyes. 

R.  C.  Sands. 


58.  Night;  when  a  cloud,  which  through  the  sky, 
Sailing  alone,  doth  cross  in  her  career  i 
The  rolling  moon  ; — to  watch  it  as  it  comes,  i 
And  deem  the  deep  opaque  will  blot  her  beams ;  j 
But  melting  like  a  wreath  of  snow,  it  hangs 

In  folds  of  wavy  silver  round,  and  clothes 
The  orb  with  richer  beauties  than  her  own ; 

Then,  passing,  leaves  her  in  her  light  serene.  i 

SouTHEY — Madoc.  < 

59.  Thine  own  loved  moon's,  "> 
That  every  soft  and  solemn  spirit  worships  ;  > 
That  lovers  love  so  well  ;  strange  joy  is  hers,  \ 
Whose  influence  o'er  all  tides  of  soul  hath  power.  \ 
She  lends  her  light  to  rapture  and  despair ;  { 
The  glow  of  hope,  and  wan  hue  of  sick  fancy,  t 
Alike  reflect  her  rays;  alike  they  light  \ 


i 


f  ■^•S/V%/\/S'\«/> 


!C" 


145 


i  The  path  of  meeting  or  of  parting  love ; 

\  Alike  on  mingling  or  on  breaking  hearts 

>  She  smiles  in  throned  beauty. 

^  Maturin — Bertram. 

s 

s 
s 

^ 

I  60.  Sunrise  ; 

]  Rolling  back  the  clouds  into 

>  Vapors  more  lovely  than  the  unclouded  sky, 

i  With  golden  pinnacles  and  snowy  mountains, 

\  And  billows  purpler  than  the  ocean's,  making 

I  In  heaven  a  glorious  mockery  of  the  earth, 

5  So  like,  we  almost  deem  it  permanent ; 

j  So  fleeting,  we  can  scarcely  call  it  aught 

\  Beyond  a  vision,  'tis  so  transiently 

^  Scatter'd  along  the  eternal  vault ;  and  yet 

^  It  dwells  upon  the  soul,  and  sooths  the  soul, 

I  And  blends  itself  into  the  soul,  until 

I  Sunrise  and  sunset  form  the  haunted  epoch 

i  Of  sorrow  and  of  love. 

\  Byron — Sardanapalus. 


WHAT  MUSICAL  SOUNDS  DO  YOU  LOVE  ? 


Oh  for  some  soul-affecting  scheme 

Of  moral  music. 

Wordsworth. 

Music,  round  her  creep 


Seek  her  out,  and  when  you  find  her, 
Gentle,  gentlest  music,  wind  her 

Round  and  round, 

Round  and  round, 
With  your  bands  of  softest  sound. 

Barry  Cornwall. 


WHAT  MUSICAL  SOUNDS  DO  YOU  LOVE? 


HE  sweet  and  solemn  sound 
Of  Sabbath  worshippers. 

W.  C.  Bryant. 

2.  The  bugle,  silver-tipp'd, 

That  with  a  breath,  long-drawn,    \ 
and  slow-expiring. 
Sends  forth  that  strain,  which,  echoing  through  the 

wilds, 
Tells  of  a  loved  one's  glad  return. 

SOUTUKY. 


3     The  voice  of  waters,  and  the  sheen 
Of  silver  fountains  leaping  to  the  sea. 


N.  P.  Willis. 


4. 


The  humbee  singinjj 


Drowsily  among  the  flowers, 

Sleepily,  sleepily. 
In  the  noontide  swayeth  he, 
Half  balanced  on  a  slender  stalk. 


J.  R.  Lowell. 


■  >%/^^A,/%/ w' 


13" 


J 


150  I 

One  voice,  in  its  low,  musical  depth, 
More  dear  and  thrilling  than  the  crowds'  applause ; 
Even  as  the  far-off  murmur  of  the  surge, 
Heard  at  hush'd  eve,  is  sweeter  than  the  homage 
Of  waves  tumultuous,  dashing  at  your  feet. 

Mrs.  Ellet.  ^ 


s 


Small  voices,  and  an  old  guitar. 

Winning  their  way  to  an  unguarded  heart. 

RoGSRS — Italy. 


> 


7.  When  soft  music  comes  to  thine  ear,  as  thou  liest  ; 

at  night,  thine  eyes  half  closed  in  sleep,  and  thy  \ 

soul    as  a  stream    flowing  at  pleasant  sounds.  ^ 

It  is  like  the  rising  breeze  that  whirls  at  first  the  \ 

thistle's  beard,  then  flies  dark-shadowy  over  the  i 

grass.  i 


8.  Kissing  cymbals  making  merry  din. 


9.  Merry  cricket,  twittering  thing  ! 
How  you  love  to  hear  it  sing ! 
Chirping  tenant,  child  of  mirth, 
Minstrel  of  the  poor  man's  hearth. 


OSSIAN. 


Keata. 


Eliza  Cook. 


\ 


10.  The  wild  enchanting  horn  !  \ 

Whose  music  up  the  deep  and  dewy  air,  \ 


151 

Swells  to  the  clouds,  and  calls  on  echo  there, 
Till  a  new  melody  is  born. 
\  Grenville  Mellen. 

j  II.  Soft  Lydian  airs 

I  Married  to  immortal  verse  ; 

I         Such  as  meeting  soul  may  pierce, 
(  In  notes,  with  many  a  winding  bout 

Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out, 
I         With  wanton  heed,  and  giddy  cunning, 

The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running, 

Untwisting  all  the  cords  that  tie 

The  hidden  soul  of  harmony. 

Milton — U  Allegro. 

12.  Words  to  the  witches  in  Macbeth  unknown ; 
Hydraulics,  hydrostatics,  and  pneumatics, 
Chlorine,  and  iodine,  and  cerostatics. 


Halleck. 


13.  The  light  ^witor; 

Its  holiest  time  the  evening  star, 
When  liquid  voices  echo  far. 


J.  G.  Percfval. 


;  14.   Cataracts  that  blow  their  trumpets  from  the  steep! 
i  Wordsworth. 


;  15.  Through  your  very  heart  it  thrilleth, 
i  When  from  crimson-threaded  lips 


Silver-treble  laughter  trilleth. 

Tennyson. 


;: 

I 


152 


16.  The  cricket's  chirp,  and  the  answer  shrill 
Of  the  gauze-winged  katydid. 

J.  R.  Drake. 

17.  Naught  as  the  music  o^ praise  and  prayer 
Is  half  so  sweet. 

BoWRING. 

18.  Notes  heard  far  off;  so  far,  as  but  to  seem 
Like  the  faint  exquisite  music  of  a  dream. 

Moore. 

19.  A  solemn  dirge  ;  now  swelling  high 
In  lofty  strains,  and  now  in  cadence  soft, 
Seeming  to  die  away  upon  the  ear ; 
Then  swelling  loud  again,  reaching  the  skies, 
As  if  to  mingle  with  the  music  there. 

Mrs.  Dana 

20.  Distance-mellow' d  song, 
From  bowers  of  merriment. 

SOCTHEX 

21.  The  melancholy  strain  of  that  sad  bird 
Who  sounds  at  night  the  warning  note,  that  shuts 
The  delicate  young  flowers. 

W.    G.    SiMMS. 

22.  The  glad  voice,  the  laughing  voice  o^  streams, 
And  the  low  cadence  of  the  silvery  sea. 

\  Mrs.  Hemans. 


I  153 

23.  Old  songs  of  love  and  sorrow. 

Mary  Howitt. 

24.  The  lively  air 
When  love  enlists  the  serenader^s  skill. 

Mrs.  Dana. 

25.  The  musical  confusion 
Oi  hounds  and  echo  in  conjunction. 

Midsummer  NighVs  Dream. 

26.  When  o'er  the  clear  still  water  swells 
The  music  of  the  Sabbath  bells. 

W.  C    Bryant. 

27.  A  deep  and  thrilling  song, 
Which  seems  with  piercing  melody  to  reach 
The  soul,  and  in  mysterious  union 
Blend  with  all  thoughts  of  gentleness  and  love. 

SOUTHEY. 
I 

I  28.  Ever  wakeful  echo  ; 

\  The  nymph  of  sportive  mockery,  that  still 

i  Hides  behind  every  rock  and  every  dell, 

I  And  softly  glides,  unseen,  from  hill  to  hill ; 

\  No  sound  doth  rise  but  mimic  it  she  will. 

I  TiiEODORE  Fay.  J 

\  29.                          The  sounding  Viol ;  \ 

\         When  eyes  with  speaking  glances,  i 

l^ _^^ J 


>  i 

154 

I  Kindle  high  with  pleasure, 

<  As  rings  the  well-known  strain  j 
I  With  easy  gliding  motion, 

<  Involved  in  graceful  fancies, 
I  Of  light  uncertain  measure, 
V  Responds  the  fairy  train. 

<  J.  G.  Percival. 

i 

I  30.  Low  whisperings  in  hoats, 

j  As  they  shoot  through  the  moonlight,  with  drippings 

{  of  oars. 

I  Moore. 

31.  The  hunter^ s  shout, 
When  clanging  horns  swell  their  sweet   winding 

notes. 
The  pack  wide-opening  on  the  trembling  air 
With  various  melody. 

SoMERViLLE — The  Chace 

32.  The  sounds  awaken'd  there 
In  the  Pin&  leaves  fine  and  small, 
Soft  and  sweetly  musical, 
By  the  fingers  of  the  air. 

J.    G.    WlIITTIER 

\  33.  The  song  of  spirits  that  will  sometimes  sail 

\  Close  to  tlie  ear,  a  deep,  delicious  stream, 

\  Then  sweep  away,  and  die  with  a  low  wail. 
\  Croly — Angel  of  the  World. 


155 

34.  The  roar 

O^  ocean's  everlasting  surges, 

Tumbling  upon  the  beach's  hard-beat  floor, 

Or  sliding  backward  to  the  shore, 

To   meet  the  landward  wave,  and  slowly  plunge 

once  more. 

J.  R.  Lowell. 

35.  The  rivulet,  which 
Sending  glad  sounds,  and  tripping  o'er  its  bed 
Of  pebbly  sands,  or  leaping  down  the  rocks. 
Seems,  with  continuous  laughter,  to  rejoice 


In  its  own  being. 


W.  C.  Bryant. 


36.  A  damsel  singing  to  herself 

A  song  of  love  hy  snatches  ;  breaking  off 

If  but  a  flower,  an  insect  on  the  wing 

Please  for  an  instant,  then  as  carelessly 

The  strain  resuming;. 

Rogers — Italy. 


'o 


37.  The  sound  of  the  church-going  bell, 
When  it  bursts  on  the  ear  with  its  full,  rich  swell. 

Miss  M.  Davidson. 

38.  The  brisk,  awakening  viol, 
Whose  sweet,  entrancing  voice  you  love  the  best. 

COLLINB. 

j  39.  The  blackbird's  merry  chant.     Bold  plunderer  ! 

\  How  sweet  to  hear  his  mellow  burst  of  song  ^ 


156 

Float  from  his  watch-place  on  the  mossy  tree, 
Close  at  the  cornfield's  edge  ! 

J.  McLellan. 

40.  The  sound  of  music  at  even-fall, 

Filling  the  heart 
With  a  flow  of  thought  and  feeling  sweet, 
When  lips  that  we  love  breathe  forth  the  song. 

Louisa  P.  Smith. 

41.  The  harp  Eolian  ; 
Faintly  at  first  it  begins,  scarce  heard,  and  gentle 

its  rising, 

Low  as  the  softest  breath  that  passes  at  summer 
evening ; 

Then,  as  it  swells  and  mounts  up,  the  thrilling 
melody  deepens. 

Till  a  mightier,  holier  virtue  comes  with  its  power- 
ful tone. 

SOOTHEY. 

42.  The  chirp  of  birds,  blithe  voices,  lowing  kine, 
The  dash  of  waters,  reed,  or  rustic  pipe. 
Blent  with  the  dulcet,  distance-mellow'd  hell. 

HiLLHOUSX.  ] 


\ 


X 


43.  A  song  of  love  and  jollity e, 

To  drive  away  dull  melancholy. 

Spenser.  \ 


K 

\  157 

I  44.  Preluding  low,  soft  notes  that  faint  and  tremble, 
\  Swelling,  awakening,  dying,  plaining  deep  ; 

i  While  such  sensations  in  the  soul  assemble, 
^  As  make  it  pleasant  to  the  eyes  to  weep. 

>  _  Mrs.  Maria  Brooks 

45.  Song  of  maids  beneath  the  moon, 
With  fairy  lattghter  blent. 

W.  C.  Bryant. 

46.  To  hear  the  glorious  swell 

Of  chanted  psalm  and  prayer, 
And  the  deep  organ's  bursting  heart 
\  Throb  through  the  shivering  air. 

J    R.  Lowell. 

47.  A  noise  like  of  a  hidden  brook, 

In  the  leafy  month  of  June, 
That  to  the  sleeping  woods  all  night 
Singeth  a  quiet  tune. 

Coleridge. 

48.  Approaching  trumpets,  that  with  quavering  start, 
On  the  smooth  wind  come  dancing  to  the  heart. 

Leigh  Hunt — Rimini. 

\  49.  A  laugh  full  of  life,  without  any  control 

\  But  the  sweet  one  of  gracefulness,  rung  from  the 

soul. 

Moore — Lalla  Rookh. 


> 


I  158  ^ 


50.  Fifes,  comets,  drums. 

That  rouse  the  sleepy  soul  to  arms,  and  bold 

Heroic  deeds 
i  SoMERViLLE — The  Ckace. 


^51.  A  little  song,  i 

I  Neither  sad  nor  very  long.  5 

I  Barry  Cornwall.  I 


$ 


5 


52.  A  voice  of  music  in  the  rustling  leaves,  ; 

i  When  the  green  boughs  are  hung  with  living  lutes,  ^ 

j  Whose  strings  will  only  vibrate  to  His  hand  i 

i  AVho  made  them.  ^ 

I  Miss  H.  F.  Gould.  I 

i  < 

I  53.  The  drums  beat  in  the  mornin',  afore  the  scriech  o'  \ 

I  day,  I 


And  the  wee,  wee  fifes  piped  loud  and  shrill,  while  I 

yet  the  morn  is  gray.  \ 

Motherwell  I 

54.  The  unseen  Jiaick  \ 

Whistling  to  clouds,  and  sky-born  streams.  l 

Wordsworth  ] 


\  55.  The  low,  sweet  shell, 

By  wliose  far  music  shall  thy  soul  be  haunted. 

Miss  Landon 


56.  The  trumpcfs  war-note  proud. 
The  trampling  and  the  hum  ! 


Macaulay. 


1  159  { 

i  I 

I  57.  A  pattering  sound  \ 

\  Of  ripen'd  acorns,  rustling  to  the  ground  I 

\  Through  the  crisp,  wither'd  leaves.  \ 

i  Mrs.  Whitman  \ 

I  58.  Birds  and  brooks  from  leafy  dells,  I 

Chiming  forth  unwearied  canticles.  I 

WoRDSWORTir.  5 

59.  When  the  organ  peal,  loud  rolling,  meets 
The  halleluiahs  of  the  choir  ;  sublime, 
A  thousand  notes  symphoniously  ascend. 
As  if  the  whole  were  one;  suspended  high 
In  air,  soaring  heavenward,  afar  they  float. 
Wafting  glad  tidings  to  the  sick  man's  couch. 
^  Grahame — The  Sabbath. 

.'  60.  Tinklings  of  a  vigilant  guitar, 

;  Of  sleepless  lover  to  a  wakeful  m.'stress. 

Byron 


%         .W>.^,.v~.., ^^^^ ^-..^^^ y..,^^ ^ .~...^S 


« 


WHAT    IS    YOUR    FAVORITE    FLOWERS  J 


Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 


I  would  I  had  some  flowers  of  the  Spring  that  might  < 

Become  your  time  of  day  ;  and  yours  ; — and  yours. 

Winter's  Tale. 

I  send  thee  flowers,  oh  dearest,  and  I  deem 
That  from  their  petals  thou  wilt  hear  sweet  words, 
Whose  music,  sweeter  than  the  voice  of  birds. 
When  breathed  to  thee  alone,  perchance  may  seem 
All  eloquent  of  feelings  unexpress'd. 

Park  Benjamin. 

A  garland  lay  him  by,  made  by  himself 
Of  many  several  flowers. 
Stuck  in  that  mystic  order  that  the  rareness 
Delighted  mc 


i 


L  14*" 


WHAT  IS  YOUR  FAVORITE  FLOWER  ? 


HE  sensitive  plant,  the  earliest 
Up-gathered  unto  the  bosom  of  rest, 
A  sweet  child,  weary  of  its  delight, 
I  The  feeblest,  and  yet  the  favorite, 
Cradled  within  the  embrace  of  night. 

Shelley. 


Tlie  jasmine  ; 
Pride  of  Carolina's  early  Spring! 

Fairy  land 
Is  not  more  beautiful,  than  when,  full  blown. 
The  jasmine,  gilt  by  the  Creator's  hand. 
Hangs  all  around  us. 

Mrs.  Dana. 


\  3.  Hyacinths,  ringing  their  soft  bells 

\        To  call  the  bees  from  the  anemonies, 

>       Jealous  of  their  bright  rivals'  glowing  wealth. 

Miss  Landon. 


VWV\/S'Ni/\/\/ ^ 


164  I 

I.  Primroses, 

Which,  when  the  lengthen'd  shadows  fall 

Like  soft  dreams  o'er  the  earth, 
And  all  around  a  sabbath  reigns 

As  at  creation's  birth. 
Burst  the  magic  bands  of  clay. 
And  greet  with  smiles  the  sun's  last  ray. 

Miss  M.  E.  Lee. 


5.  The  chaste  camelia's  pure  and  spotless  bloom, 
That  boasts  no  fragrance,  and  conceals  no  thorn. 

W.   ROSCOE. 


0.  The  light  snowdrops,  which,  starting  from  their  cells,  I 
Hang  each  pagoda  with  their  silver  bells.  f 

O.  W.  Holmes.  > 


) 


A  tulip,  which  Titania  may  have  chosen  '^ 

For  rest  or  revelry,  to  feast  or  doze  in.  j 

Miss  Moise  \ 
I 

8.                                           Roses,  5 

Beautiful  each,  but  diiferent  all ;  i 

One  with  that  pure  but  crimson  flush,  i 

That  marks  a  maiden's  first  love  blush ;  | 

One,  i 

Pale  as  the  snow  of  the  funeral  stone  ;  < 

Another,  rich  as  the  damask  die  J 

Of  a  monarch's  purple  drapery  ;  \ 


165 

And  one  hath  leaves  like  the  leaves  of  gold 
Worked  on  that  drapery's  royal  fold. 

Miss  Laxdojc. 


i 


i 


\ 


i     9.  The  Jiare-hell  on  the  heath, 
> 

\  The  forest  tree  beneath, 

i  Which  springs  like  elfin  dweller  of  the  wild  ; 

>  Light  as  a  breeze  astir 

>  Stemm'd  with  the  gossamer, 
I  Soft  as  the  blue  eyes  of  a  poet's  child.  J 

•  Mary  Howitt.  > 

>  > 
i                                                                                                            i 

I  > 

{  10.  Thou  sweet  daisy,  common-place  i 

]  Of  nature,  with  that  homely  face,  \ 

And  yet,  with  something  of  a 

Which  love  makes  for  thee  ! 


And  yet,  with  something  of  a  grace,  ^ 


WoRDSWORTtt 

1 1    The  good  old  passion-flower  ! 
It  brinoreth  to  thv  mind 
The  young  days  of  the  Christian  church, 
Dim  ages  left  behind. 

Mary  IIowitt. 


\  12.  Swtcl  peas  on  tiptoe  for  a  flight, 

I  With  wings  of  gentle  flush  o'er  delicate  white, 

I  And  taper  fingers,  catching  at  all  things,  j 

^  To  bind  them  round  about  with  tiny  rings.  | 

i  Keats.  l 


8^' 


166 

13.  Heart's  ease.     One  could  look  for  half  a  day 
Upon  this  flower,  and  shape  in  fancy  out 
Full  twenty  different  tales  of  love  and  sorrow, 
That  gave  this  gentle  name. 

Mary  Howitt. 

14.  The  humble  rosemary, 
Whose  sweets  so  thanklessly  are  shed 

To  scent  the  dead. 


15.  The  primrose,  all  bepearl'd  with  dew, 
So  yellow,  green,  and  richly  too. 
Ask  you  why  the  stalk  is  weak, 
And  bending,  yet  it  doth  not  break  ? 
I  must  tell  you  these  discover 
What  doubts  and  fears  are  in  a  lover. 


Moore. 


Carkw. 


16. 


Those  greater  far  than  all 
Our  blessed  Lord  did  see, 

The  lilies  beautiful,  which  grew 
In  the  fields  of  Galilee  ! 


Mary  Howitt. 


17. 


ei^^'- 


A  little  flower,  which 
Before  the  bolt  of  Cupid  fell  milk-white. 

Now  purple  with  love's  wound, 
And  maidens  call  it  love-in-idleness. 

Midsummer  Nighl's  Dream. 


167 

18.  The  lilac,  various  in  array  —now  white, 
Now  sanguine,  and  her  beauteous  head  now  set 
With  purple  spikes  pyramidal,  as  if. 
Studious  of  ornament,  yet  unresolved 
Which  hue  she  most  approved,  she  chose  them  all. 

COWPER. 

19.  King-cup,  with  its  canary  hue ; 
'Twas  from  this  goblet  Psyche  drew 
The  nectar  for  her  butterflies. 

Miss  Moise. 

20.  Jasmine,  with  her  pale  stars  shining  through 
The  myrtle  darkness  of  her  leafs  green  hue. 

Mrs.  Norton. 

21.  The  water-lilies,  that  glide  so  pale, 
As  if  with  constant  care 
Of  the  treasures  which  they  bear; 
For  those  ivory  vases  hold 
Each  a  sunny  gift  of  gold. 

Miss  Landon. 


22.  Daffodils, 

That  come  before  the  swallow  dares, 
And  take  the  winds  of  March  with  beauty. 

Winter's  Tale. 

{  23.  Sweet  wild-Jlowers,  that  hold  their  quiet  talk 
Upon  the  uncultured  green. 


168 


24.  The  virgin  lilies  in  their  white, 

Clad  but  with  tlie  lawn  of  almost  naked  white 


< 
Cowley.  ^ 


25.  The   hyacinth,   for  constancy,  wi'   its   unchanging   i 

blue.  I 

Burns.  ^ 

26.  Blue  peUorel,  from  purple  leaves  up-slanting  { 

A  modest  gaze,  like  eyes  of  a  young  maiden,  ^ 

Shining  beneath  dropp'd  lids,  the  evening  of  her   ? 

weddino;.  I 

Drake. 

27.  A  tulip  just  open'd,  offering  to  hold 

A  butterfly  gaudy  and  gay, 
Or  rocking  its  cradle  of  crimson  and  gold. 
Where  the  careless  young  slumberer  lay. 

Miss  Gould. 


> 


28.  She  comes — the  first,  the  fairest  thing  < 

That  heaven  upon  the  earth  doth  fling,  I 

Ere  winter's  star  has  set ;  | 

She  dwells  behind  her  leafy  screen,  I 

And  gives  as  angels  give — unseen, —  \ 

The  violet/  I 

Barry  Cornwall.  i 

I  29.                                  The  rich  magnolia,  \ 

High  priestess  of  the  flowers,  whose  censer  fills 

The  air. 

Mrs.  Sigourney. 


;  33.  The  wayside  weed  of  homeliest  hue, 

> 

\  Lookinfj  erect  up  to  the  golden  blue. 

\  For  thus  it  speaketh  to  the  thinking  mind — 

I  "  O'erlook  me  not :  I  for  a  purpose  grew  ; 

\  On  us  one  sunshine  falls  !" 

;  Thomas  Miller. 

\ 

\  34.  The  last  violet 

i  That  sheds  its  fragrance  on  the  chill,  damp  air 

;  Of  a  November  morn,  like  love  in  death. 

>  Lady  Flora  Hastings. 


\  169 

i  30.  Cereus, 

I  Who  wastes  on  night's  dull  eye  a  blaze  of  charms.    5 

<  Darwin.  \ 


5  31.  The  scarlet  creeper^ s  bloom, 

\  When  'midst  her  leaves  the  humbird's  varying  dyes 

I  Sparkle  like  half-seen  fairy  eyes. 

^  Dr.  S.  H.  Dickson. 

\ 

\  32.  You  love  the  sweet  geranium's  smell, 

',  Its  scollop'd  leaves,  and  crimson  flower; 

^  Of  days  long  passed  it  seems  to  tell, 

s  And  memory  owns  its  magic  power. 

I  Miss  Maria  James           ^ 


) 


J  35.  The  peony,  with  drooping  head, 
I  Which  blows  a  transient  hour. 

And  gently  shaken  in  the  breeze, 

Descends  a  crimson  shower.  | 

Miss  Maria  James. 


170  j 

i  36.  The  blue  Jleur-de-Iis,  in  the  warm  sunliglit  shining,  I 

\          As  if  grains  of  gold  in  its  petals  were  set.  ; 

^                                                                                Mary  Howitt.  I 

\  37.  The  pale  and  delicate  narcissus'  flowers, 

<  Bending  so  languidly,  as  still  they  found 

I         In  the  pure  wave  a  love  and  destiny. 

i                                                                                Miss  Landon.  ^ 

38.  The  violet's  azure  eye, 
Which  gazes  on  the  sky, 
Until  its  hue  grows  like  what  it  beholds.  5 

Shellev.  .■ 

39.  The  evening  primrose,  \ 
O'er  which  the  wind  might  gladly  take  a  pleasant  \ 

sleep,  \ 

But  that  'tis  ever  startled  by  the  leap  j 

Of  buds  into  fresh  flowers.  j 

Keats.  \ 

■i 

40.  The  clematis,  all  graceful  and  fair ;  ! 

You  may  set  it  like  pearls  in  the  folds  of  your  hair.  / 

Mrs.  a.  M.  Wells.  ^ 

r 

41.  The  tulip, 
Whose  passionate  leaves  with  their  ruby  glow 
Hide  the  heart  that  is  burning  and  black  below. 

Miss  Landon.  < 


— ^-x 


171 

42.  The  almond,  tliough  its  branch  is  sere, 
With  myriad  blossoms  beautiful ; 
As  pink,  as  is  the  shell's  inside. 

Mary  Howitt. 


43. 


44. 


Lilies  for  a  bridal  bed, 
Roses  for  a  matron's  head, 
Violets  for  a  maiden  dead — 
Pansies  let  thy  flower  be. 

The  barherry-bush, 
Whose  yellow  blossoms  hang. 
As  when  a  child  by  grassy  lane 
Along  you  lightly  sprang. 


45. 


Shelley. 


Mrs.  GiLMAN. 


The  shower 
Wets  not  a  rose  that  buds  in  beauty's  bower 
One  half  so  lovely  as  the  sweet  brier  ; 

for  it  grows  along 

The  poor  man's  pathway,  by  the  poor  man's  door. 

Brainerd. 


\ 


46.  The  low  dwarf  acacia,  that  droops  as  it  grows. 

And  the  leaves,  as  you  gather  them,  tremble  and 

close. 

Mrs.  a.  M.  Wells. 


47.  The  cowslip,  that,  bending 
With  its  golden  bells. 


172 

Of  each  glad  hour's  ending, 
With  a  sweet  chinae  tells. 


Miss  Landon. 


( 


48.  The  beautiful  clover,  so  round  and  red ; 

There  is  not  a  thing  in  twenty, 
That  lifts  in  the  morning  so  sweet  a  head, 
Above  its  leaves  on  its  earthly  bed, 

With  so  many  horns  of  plenty. 

Miss  H.  F.  Gould. 

49.  A  lilyjlower, 
The  old  Egyptian's  emblematic  mani. 
Of  joy  immortal,  and  of  pure  affection. 

Wordsworth. 


<  50.  Mignioneite,  the  little  nun, 

I  In  meekness  shedding  soft  perfume. 

\  Miss  P.  Moise. 

I  51.  The  heliotrope,  whose  gray  and  heavy  wreath 

\  Mimics  the  orchard  blossom's  fruity  breath. 

',  Mrs.  Norton. 

f 

s  52.  The  timid  jasmine-huds,  that  keep 

j  Their  odors  to  themselves  all  day, 

>  But  when  the  sunlight  dies  away, 

I  Let  the  delicious  secret  out. 

I  Moore. 


■,  173 

53.  Violets  dim, 

But  sweeter  than  the  lids  of  Juno's  eyes, 
Or  Cytherea's  breath. 

Winter's  Tale. 


> 


54.  Fox-glove,  whose  purple  vest  conceals 
Its  hollow  heart. 

Miss  Moise. 

55.  The  housafonia  cei'ulea, 
Its  suowy  circle  ray'd 

With  crosslets,  bending  its  pearly  whiteness  round, 
While  the  spreading  lips  arc  bound 

With  such  a  mellow  shade, 

As  in  the  vaulted  blue 
Deepens  at  midnight  or  grows  pale 
When  mantled  in  the  full  moon's  slender  veil. 

Percival. 

56.  The  UI>/, 
Imperial  beauty,  fair  unrivall'd  one  ! 

What  flower  of  earth  has  honor  high  as  thine, 
To  find  thy  name  on  His  unsullied  lips 
Whose  eye  was  light  from  heaven ! 

Miss  H.  F.  Gould. 

57.  The  little  windfioiver,  whose  just  opcn'd  eye 
Is  blue  as  the  Spring  heaven  it  gazes  at ; 
Startling  the  loiterer  in  naked  paths 
With  unexpected  beauty. 

W.  C.  Bryant. 


15* 


174 

58.  The  tariling  arhutus,  shrouding  its  grace, 
Till  fragrance  bewrayeth  its  hiding-place. 

Mrs.  SiGOUKNET. 

< 

\  59.  The  woodbine  loild, 

\  That  loves  to  hang  on  barren  boughs  remote 

J  Her  wreaths  of  flowery  perfume. 

\  W.  Mason — The  English  Garden. 

*i 

60.  The  Naiad-like  lil^  of  tlie  vale, 


That  the  light  of  its  tremulous  bells  is  seen 
Through  their  pavilions  of  tender  green. 

Shelley. 


<  Whom  youth  makes  so  fair  and  passion  so  pale,  \ 


WHAT    GKATIFIES    YOUR    TASTE    OR     \ 


YOUR    AFFECTIONS? 


I 


"AVe  like  not  most  what  most  is  twin  to  self, 
"  But  that  which  best  supplies  the  void  within." 


\  WHAT   GRATIFIES  YOUR  TASTE,  OR  YOUR 

1 
\ 

\  AFFECTIONS  ? 


\ 


O  walk  in  choice  gardens,  i 

And  from  variety  of  curious  flowers    \ 

Contemplate  nature's  workmanship   < 

and  wonders. 

Masbinger. 


2.  You  love  to  wander  by  old  oceaii's  side, 
And  hold  communion  with  its  sullen  tide, 
To  climb  the  mountain's  everlasting  wall, 


And  linger  where  the  thunder-waters  fall. 


Sprague. 


3.  Happy  children  at  their  play, 

Whose  hearts  run  over  into  song. 


J.  R.  Lowell. 


4.  Dogs  of  grave  demeanor. 

All  meekness,  gentleness,  though  large  of  limb. 

Rogers — Italy. 


178 

I  5.   Old  legends  of  the  monkish  page, 
^        Traditions  of  the  saint  and  sage, 
Tales  that  have  the  rime  of  age 
>  And  character  of  eld. 


Longfellow 


6.  Gentleman. —  A  lock,  a  leaf, 

Tliat  some  dear  girl  has  given  ; 
Frail  record  of  an  hour,  as  brief 
As  sunset  clouds  in  heaven, 
But  spreading  purple  twilight  still 
High  over  memory's  shadow'd  hill. 

O.  W.  Holmes. 


J  6.  Lady. — There's  little  that  you  care  for  now, 
Except  a  simple  wedding  ring. 

Thomas  Miller. 

7.  Fruits  that  have  just  begun 

Tofush  on  the  side  that  is  next  the  sun. 

H.  F.  Gould. 


Is. 

Gentleman. — You  do  wish  that  you  could  be 

> 

A  sailor,  on  the  rolling  sea  ; 

< 

In  the  shadow  of  the  sails 

1 

You  would  ride  and  rock  all  day, 

> 

Going  whither  blow  the  gales. 

> 

As  you've  heard  the  seamen  say. 

L    S.  Noble. 

Si_ 

179  \ 

8.  Lady. — By  the  low  cradle  thou  dclight'st  to  sit 
Of  sleeping  infants,  watching  their  soft  breath. 

Charlotte  Smith. 

9.  You  like  a  ring,  an  ancient  ring, 

Of  massive  form,  and  virgin  gold  ; 
As  firm,  as  free  from  base  alloy- 
As  were  the  sterling  hearts  of  old. 

G.    W.    DOANE. 

10.  There's  a  room  you  love  dearly,  the  sanctum  of 
bliss, 
That  holds  all  the  comforts  you  least  like  to  miss ; 
Where,  like  ants  in  a  hillock,  you  run  in  and  out. 
Where  sticks  grace  the  corner,  and  hats  lie  about, 
With  book-shelves,  where  tomes  of  all  sizes  are 

spread. 
Not  placed  to  be  look'd  at,  but  meant  to  be  read. 

Eliza  Cook. 

\  11.  Gentleman. — Ah,  how  glorious  to  be  free, 

s 

\  Your  good  dog  by  your  side, 

j  With  rifle  hanging  on  your  arm. 


To  range  the  forest  wide.  I 


i 
E.  Peabody.  ^ 


11.  Lady. —  To  look  into  tlie  smooth  J 

Clear  glass,  < 


i          Where  as  you  bend  to  look,  just  opposite,  i 

55 ..,.„._____._______.____.._^ 3g 


I  180 

I  A  sliape  within  the  polish'd  frame  appears 

<  Bending  to  look  on  you.  '  \ 

\  ,  Milton,  modified.  i 

■ 

I  12.  Your  sociable  piazza, — you  prize  its  quiet  talk, 

When  arm  in  arm  with  one  you  love  you  tread  the 

accustom'd  walk, 
Or  loll  within  your  rocking-chair,  not  over  nice  or 

wise, 

And  yield  the  careless  confidence  where  heart  to 

heart  replies. 

Mrs.  Gilman. 

13.  An  eye  that  will  mark 
Your  coming,  and  look  brighter  when  you  come. 

Byron. 

14.  Give  you  a  slight  Jlirtation,  I 

By  the  light  of  a  chandelier,  ; 

With  music  to  fill  up  the  pauses  > 

And  nobody  very  near. 


i 


N.  P.  Willis. 

15.  Give  all  things  else  their  honor  due, 
But  gooseberry-pie  is  best. 

SOUTHEY. 

16.  An  ever  drizzling  raine  upon  the  lofte, 
i  Mixt  with  a  murmuring  winde,  much  like  the  \ 
\  sownde  t 
]  Of  murmuring  bees.  ? 
5                                                                    Spenser — Fairy  Queen.  \ 


A 


!  181 

',  IT.  Oh,  sweeter  than  the  marriage  feast, 
•i  'Tis  sweeter  far  to  thee, 

To  walk  together  to  the  kirk 
With  a  goodly  company. 

Coleridge — Ancient  Mariner. 

18.  The  world  below  hath  not  for  thee 
Such  a  fair  and  glorious  sight, 
As  a  noble  ship  on  a  rippling  sea 
In  the  clear  and  full  moonlight. 

Eliza  Cook. 


19.  Gentleman. —  A  vohle  horse, 

With  flowing  back,  firm  chest,  and  fetlocks  clean, 
The  branching  veins  ridging  the  glossy  lean, 
The  mane  hung  sleekly,  the  projecting  eye 
That  to  the  stander  near  looks  awfully, 
The  finish'd  head  in  its  compactness  free, 
Small,  and  o'er-arching  to  the  bended  knee, 
The  start  and  snatch,  as  if  he  felt  the  comb. 
With  mouth  that  flings  about  the  creamy  foam, 
The  snorting  turbulence,  the  nod,  the  champing, 
The  shift,  the  tossing,  and  the  fiery  tramping. 

Leigh  Hunt — Rimir.i. 

19.  Lady. —  Your  witless  puss; 

While  many  a  stroke  of  fondness  glides 
Along  her  back  and  tabby  sides, 
Dilated  swells  her  glossy  fur, 
And  softly  sings  her  busy  pur  ; 


16 


.n 


K 


182 

As  timing  well  the  equal  sound, 
Her  clutching  feet  bepat  the  ground, 
And  all  their  harmless  claws  disclose 
Like  prickles  of  an  early  rose, 
While  softly  from  her  whisker'd  cheek 
The  half-closed  eyes  peer  mild  and  meek. 

••  Joanna  Baillie. 

^  20.  The  tall  larch  sighing  in  the  burial  place, 

Or  willow  trailing  low  its  boughs,  to  hide 

The  gleaming  marble. 

W.  C.  Bryant. 


21. 

The  dance,                                            \ 

> 

Pleasant  with  graceful  flatteries.                                   \ 

Miss  Landon.          \ 

? 

\  22. 

You  rather  look  on  smiling  faces,                                  I 

1 

And  linger  round  a  cheerful  hearth, 

Than  mark  the  stars'  bright  hiding-places, 

1  ■ 

As  they  peep  out  upon  the  earth. 

Mrs.  Welby. 

1  23. 

Wreathy  shells,  with  lips  of  red, 

} 

On  a  beach  of  whiten'd  sand. 

HOSMKR. 

]  24. 

When  to  the  startled  eye  the  sudden  glance 

Appears  far  south,  eruptive,  through  the  cloud,             \ 

And  following  slower,  in  explosion  vast,                       \ 

*. 

The  thunder  raises  his  tremendous  voice.                     } 

> 

Thomson — Seasons, 

k^^ 

^ 

{  183 

\  25.  Gentlkman. —  "  Tis    heaven    to    lounge    upon  a   > 

\                 couch,"  said  Gray,  5 

"  And  read  new  novels  through  a  rainy  day."  | 

I          Add  but  the  Spanish  weed,  the  bard  was  right.  | 

I  Sl'llAGUE.  \ 

\  25.  Lady. — Your     moralizing     knitting- work,-  whose 

I  threads  most  aptly  show 

\  How  evenly  around  life's  span  our  busy  threads 

\  should  go  ; 

^  And  if  a  stitch  perchance  should  drop,  as  life's  frail 

\  stitches  will, 

;  How,  if  we  patient  take  it  up,  the  work  will  prosper 

I  still. 

I  Mrs.  Gilman. 

\  26.  'Tis  pleasant,  by  the  cheerful  hearth,  to  hear 

\  Of  tempests,  and  the  dangers  of  the  deep, 

>  And  pause  at  times,  and  feel  that  we  are  safe, 
\  Then  listen  to  the  perilous  tale  again, 

{  And  with  an  eager  and  suspended  soul 

'  Woo  terror  to  delight  us. 

\  SouTiiEY — Madoc. 

\  27.  The  moon, 

\  Which  kisseth  every  where,  with  silver  lip, 

I  Dead  things  to  life. 

\  Keatb. 

>  28.  The  insect,  that  when  evening  comes. 
Small  though  he  be,  and  scarce  distinguishable, 


-^ 


I  184  I 

[         Unsheaths  his  wings,  and  through  the   woods  and    \ 
J  glades  I 

I  Scatters  a  marvellous  splendor.  \ 

Rogers — Italy  '> 

29.  When  down  the  green   lane  come  heart-peals  of  \ 

laughter, 
For  school  has  sent  its  eldest  inmates  forth,  \ 

And  when  a  smaller  t^and  comes  dancing  after,        'i 
Filling  the  air  with  shouts  of  infant  mirth.  { 

Mrs.  Scott. 

30.  A  couch  near  to  a  curtaining'. 
Whose  airy  texture,  from  a  golden  string 
Floating,  into  the  room  permits  appear 
Unveil'd,  the  summer  heaven,  hlue  and  clear. 

Keats. 

yi.  Dear  to  your  heart  are  the  scenes  of  your  child- 
hood, 
When  fond  recollection  presents  them  to  view. 
The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep-tangled  wild- 
wood. 
And  every  loved  spot  w^hich  your  infancy  knew. 

Woodworth. 

32.  To  seek  the  patient ^.s/icr '5  silent  stand. 

Intent,  your  angle  trembling  in  your  hand  ; 
With  looks  unmoved  to  lure  the  scaly  breed, 
And  eye  the  dancing  cork  and  bending  reed. 

FoPE. 


i 


1  185 

I  33.   Converse,  which  qualifies  for  solitude, 
As  exercise  for  salutary  rest. 

Young — Night  Thoughts. 

I  34.  Gentleman. — To  follow,  fleetest  of  the  fleet, 

i  The  red  deer,  driven  along  its  native  plains, 

\  With  cry  of  hound  and  horn. 
5  Wordsworth. 


34.  Lady. — One  wild-flower  from  the  path  of  love, 
All  lowly  though  it  lie, 
Is  dearer  than  the  wreath  that  waves 
To  stern  ambition's  eye. 

H.    T.    TUCKERMAN. 


i 


35.                      The  laugh-provoking  p/?i;  absurd  j 

Though  it  be,  far-fetched,  hard  to  be  discern'd,  \ 

l          It  serves  the  purpose  if  it  shake  our  sides.  \ 
\                                                                                        Graham  K. 


5  \ 

•  36.  You  have  a  wish,  and  it  is  this — that  in  some  un-    >. 

couth  glen,  J 

It  were  your  lot  to  find  a  spot,  unknown  by  selfish 

men, 
Where  you  might  be  securely  free,  like  eremite  of 

old, 
From  worldly  guile,  from  woman's  wile,  and  friend-   \ 

ships  brief  and  cold. 

Motherwell. 


?  37. 


186 

You  love  the  fields,  the  woods,  the  streams, 
The  wild-flowers  fresh  and  sweet. 

And  yet  you  love  no  less  than  these 
The  crowded  city  street ; 

For  haunts  of  men,  where'er  they  be, 

Awake  your  deepest  sympathy. 


Mary  Howitt. 


;  38.  Sleep, — soft  closer  of  our  eyes. 

Low  murmurer  of  tender  lullabies. 


Keats. 


39.  You  love  the  sweet  Sabhaih,  that  bids  in  repose 
The  plough  in  its  mid-furrow  stand. 

Dr.  Gilman. 

40.  Pleasant  it  is  when  woods  are  ffreen. 

And  winds  are  soft  and  low, 
To  lie  amid  some  sylvan  scene, 
Where,  the  long  drooping  boughs  between. 
Shadows  dark  and  sunlight  sheen 


Alternate  come  and  go. 


Longfellow. 


41.  Gentleman. — To  beat  the  surges  under  you, 
And  ride  upon  their  backs ;  to  tread  the  water 
Whose  enmity  you  flung  aside,  and  breast 
The  surge  most  swoUcmi,  that  meets  you  ;  your  bold 

head 
'Bove  the  contentious  waves  keeping,  and  oar 


I  '''  1 

Yourself  with  your  good  arms,  in  lusty  stroke  < 

>  To  the  shore.  i 

I                                                                                                  Tempest.  < 

(41.  Lady. — Beside  the  dimness  of  the  g/m/ttemi^  seer,   > 

\                 with  a  dear  friend  to  linger,  I 

t                                                          ^  < 

I  Beneath  the  gleams  of  the  silver  stars.  > 
s                                                                                      Shelley. 


>  42.  To  pluck  some  way-side  flower, 
\  And  press  it  in  the  choicest  nook 
I  Of  a  much-loved  and  oft-read  book. 

i  J.  R.  Lowell. 

> 

}  43.  A  wheel-footed  studying-chair, 
\  Contrived  both  for  toil  and  repose, 

}  Wide-elbow'd,  and  wadded  with  care. 

In  which  you  both  scribble  and  doze. 

COWPER. 


44.  Gentleman. — Hurrah  for  you !  the  wind  is  up,  it 

I  bloweth  fresh  and  free, 

]  And  every  chord,  instinct  with  life,  pipes  out  its  fear- 

I  less  glee ; 

J  Big  swell  the  bosom'd  sails  with  joy,  and  they  mad- 

I  ly  kiss  the  spray, 

<  As  proudly  through  the  foaming  surge  the  sea-king  i 

I  bears  away. 

{  Motherwell. 

i 


.' 


\  188  I 


i  45.  Gentleman. —  The  soil  to  tread 

Where  man  hath  nobly  striven, 
And  life  like  incense  hath  been  shed 


An  offering  unto  heaven. 


Mr6.  Hemans. 


<  44.  Lady. — To  place  your  lips  to  a  spiral  shell,  % 

\              And  breathe  through  every  fold ;  \ 

\         Or  look  for  the  depth  of  its  pearly  cell,  < 

\              As  a  miser  would  look  for  gold.  ? 

\                                                                   Miss  H.  F.  Gould.  \ 


J        A  ^  l_r'AT'r<TT?T\T4TVT  ll-A*-»£>y-\ll*/-\ft»/-\0/i  \ 


45. 

Lady. — The  old  studij-corner  by  a  nook, 

Crowded  with  volumes  of  the  old  romance. 

1 

N.  P.  Willis. 

46. 

Ay,  'tis  to  you  a  glorious  sight 

To  gaze  on  ocean's  ample  face  ; 

An  awful  joy,  a  deep  delight, 

To  see  his  laughing  waves  embrace 

Each  other,  in  their  frolic  race. 

1 

George  Lunt. 

47. 

You  love  the  pictures  that  you  see 

At  times  in  some  old  gallery  ; 

You  love  them,  although  art  may  deem 

:; 

Such  pictures  of  but  light  esteem. 

' 

^                   Mary  Howitt. 

k — 

.^ 


7i 
189 

48.  Gentleman. —  A  brown  cigar, 

A  special,  smooth-skiiin'd,  real  Havanna. 

Motherwell. 

48.  Lady. — Your   quiet,    pleasant   chamber,    with    the    I 

rose-vine 

Woven  round  the  casement. 

Miss  Mitford. 


49.  Old  books  to  read  ! 

Ay,  bring  those  nodes  of  wit. 

The  brazenclasp'd,  the  vellum  writ, 

Time-honor'd  tomes. 

Henry  Carey. 

50.  A  youthful  mother  to  her  infant  smiling. 
Who  with  spread  arms,  and  dancing  feet, 
And  cooins:  voice,  returns  an  answer  sweet. 

Joanna  Baillie. 

51.  Gentleman. — To  be  toss'd  on  the  waves  alone,  or 

mid  the  crew 
Of  joyous  comrades,  now  the  reedy  marge 
Clearing,  with  strenuous  arm  dipping  the  oar. 

Wordsworth. 

51.  Lady. — When  the  sail  is  slack,  the  course  is  slow, 

That  at  your  leisure,  as  you  coast  along. 

You  may  ccr.template,  and  from  every  scene 

<  Receive  its  influence. 

>  Rogers.  ^ 


% 


190 


52.  An  antique  chair, 

Cushion'd  with  cunning  luxury. 


N.  P.  Willis. 


53.  You  love  a  hand  that  meets  your  own 

With  grasp  that  causes  some  sensation  ; 
You  love  a  voice  whose  varying  tone 
From  truth  has  learn'd  its  modulation. 

Mrs.  Osgood. 

<; 

54.  When  each  and  all  come  crowding  round  to  share 

A  cordial  greeting,  the  beloved  sight ; 
When  welcomings  of  hand  and  lip  are  there, 

Arid  when  these  overflowings  of  delight 
Subside  into  a  sense  of  quiet  bliss, 
Life  hath  no  purer,  deeper  happiness. 

SOUTHKY. 

55.  Oh  yes,  the  poor  man's  garden ! 

It  is  great  joy  to  thee. 
This  little,  precious  piece  of  ground. 

Beside  his  door  to  see. 
For  in  the  poor  man's  garden  grow 

Far  more  than  herbs  and  flowers, 
Kind  thoughts,  contentment,  peace  of  mind, 

And  joy  for  weary  hours. 

Mary  Howiti. 

\ 

i 
As  You  Like  It.  i 


l  56.  To  be  sad,  and  say  nothing. 


34 

191 


57.  Sweet  poetry,  the  alchymy 

:th  into  go 

Mrs.  Dana. 


Which  turneth  all  it  toucheth  into  gold. 


58.  Gentleman. —  With  a  swimmer^s  stroke 

To  fling  the  billowsback  from  your  drench'd  hair, 
And  laughing  from  your  lip  the  audacious  brine ; 


\ 


rising  o'er 


The  waves  as  they  arise,  and  prouder  still 
The  loftier  they  uplift  thee  ;  then,  exulting, 
With  a  far-dashing  stroke,  and  drawing  deep 
The  long  suspended  breath,  again  to  spurn 
The  foam  which  breaks  around  thee,  and  pursue 
Thy  track  like  a  sea-bird.  .  \ 

Byron — The  Two  Foscari.  I 


58.  Lady. — A  needle,  which  though  it  be  small  and 

tender, 
Yet  it  is  both  a  maker  and  a  mender, 
A  grave  reformer  of  old  rents  decay'd. 
Stops  holes,  and   seams,  and  desperate   cuts  dis- 

play'd  ; 
And  for  your  country's  quiet,  you  would  like 
That  womankind  should  use  no  other  pike. 
It  will  increase  their  peace,  enlarge  their  store,  I 

To  use  their  tongues  less,  and  their  needles  more.      : 
The  needle's  sharpness  profit  yields  and  pleasure,     < 


But  sharpness  of  the  tongue  bites  out  of  measure. 
John  Taylor — Needless  Excellency. 


> 


192 

59.  Infayit  charms, 
Unconscious  fascination,  undesign'd ; 
The  orison  repeated  in  your  arms, 

The  book,  the  bosom  on  your  knee  reclined, 
The  low  sweet  fairy  lore  to  con. 

Campbell— rGerirueie  of  Wyoming. 

60.  With  Shakspeare's  self  to  speak  and  smile  alone, 
And  no  intruding  visitation  fear 

To  shame  the  unconscious    laugh,   or   stop   your 
sweetest  tear. 

Campbell — Gertrude  of  Wyoming. 


\ 


\ 


I   FOR    WHAT     HAVE    YOU    A    DISTASTE 
OR    AVERSIONS 


"  I  do  not  like  you,  Dr.  Fell — 
"  The  reason  why  I  cannot  tell  ; 
"  But  this  I  know  full  well, 
"  I  do  not  like  you,  Dr.  Fell." 


^.         N  " 


» 


'K 


FOR    WHAT    HAVE    YOU  A  DISTASTE    OR 
AVERSION  ? 


ENTLEMAN.— Three     loud    talking 

women, 
That   are   discoursing    of    the    newest   \ 

fashion. 

John  Tobin. 


Ladv. — Ye  say,  "  There  is  naething  I  hate  like 

men, 
"  But  the  deuce  gae  wi'm  to  believe  me." 


the 


Burns. 


The  banquet-hall,  the  play,  the  ball, 
Have  lost  their  charms  for  thee. 


G.  P.  Morris. 


It's  hardly  in  a  body's  power 
To  keep  at  times  frae  being  sour, 
To  see  how  things  are  shared ; 
How  best  o'  chiels  are  whiles  in  want, 
While  coofs  on  countless  thousands  rant, 
And  ken  na  how  to  wair't. 


Burns. 


Si. 


»^ 


19Q 

4.  Oh,  it  is  sad  to  look  upon 

The  play-place  of  our  youthful  hours, 
And  mark  what  wasting  change  hath  run 

As  fire  amid  its  bowers, 
And  sear'd  its  greenwood  tree,  and  left 
A  trunk  all  blacken'd  and  bereft ! 

J.  W   Miller. 

5.  Conversation,  when  reduced  to  say 

The  hundredth  time  what  you  have  said  before. 

Mrs.  Sigourney. 

6.  You  never  speak  the  word  farewell 

But  with  an  utterance  faint  and  broken, 
A  heart-sick  yearning  for  the  time 
When  it  shall  never  more  be  spoken. 

Bowles. 

7.  Gentleman. — Now,  my  lord,  as  for  tripe,  it's  your 

utter  aversion. 

Goldsmith — Haunch  of  Venison. 

7.  Lady. — An  exquisite  of  the  highest  stamp. 

Albert  Pike. 

8.  To  see 
Things  of  no  better  mould 

Than  thou  thyself  art,  greedily 
In  Fame's  bright  page  enroll'd. 

Motherwell. 


I 


197 


I    9.  Weaving  spiders. —  ^ 

\  Hence,  you  long-legged  spinners,  hence !  j 

5  Midsummer  Night's  Dream.  \ 


10    You  have  no  taste  hr  pomp  and  strife, 
Which  others  love  to  find  ; 
Your  only  wish,  that  bliss  of  life, 
A  poor  and  quiet  mind. 


Clare 


11.  You  like  not  this  phrenology, 
i  This  system  of  unfolding 

j  The  secret  of  a  man's  desires 
I  To  every  one's  beholding. 

i  R.  M.  Charlton. 

I 

\  12.  The  sullen  passion,  and  the  hasty  pet, 

\  The  swelling  lip,  the  tear-distended  eye, 

j  The  peevish  question,  the  perverse  reply. 

*)  IIayley — Triumphs  of  Temper. 


\  13.  Nor  do  you  love  that  common  phrase  of  guests, 

'<  As,  we  make  iold,  or,  we  are  troublesome  ; 

I  We  take  you  unprovided,  and  the  like  ; 

I  •  nor  that  common  phrase  of  hosts, 

i  Oh,  had  I  known  your  coming,  we'd  have  had 

\  Such  things  and  such  ;  nor  blame  of  cook,  to  say, 

'.  This  dish  or  that  hath  not  been  served  with  care. 

^  Thomas  Heywood  and  Richard  Broome — 

5  The  Late  Lancashire  Witches. 


!5 


198 


^,  14.  Tales  of  love  were  wont  to  weary  you ; 

'  I  know  you  joy  not  in  a  love-discourse. 

I  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 


15.  'Tis  a  dreary  thing  to  be 

Tossing  on  the  wide,  wide  sea, 
When  the  sun  has  set  in  clouds, 
And  the  wind  sighs  through  the  shrouds, 
With  a  voice  and  with  a  tone 


Like  a  living  creature's  moan  ! 


Epes  Sargent. 


IG.   To  hear  the  French  talk  French  around  you, 

And  wonder  how  they  understand  each  other ; 
To  hearken,  and  find  all  attempts  confound  you 
At  guessing  what  they  mean  by  all  their  pother. 

Byron — Giuseppino. 

17.  Books  !  out  upon  them  ;  faithless  chroniclers. 
Mere  wordy  counsellors — cold  comforters 

In  the  hour  of  sorrow. 

Lady  Flora  Hastings 

18.  Your  curse  upon  the  venom'd  slang 
That  shoots  your  tortured  gums  alang, 
An'  through  your  lugs  gies  mony  a  twang, 

Wi'  gnawing  vengeance ; 
Tearing  your  nerves  wi'  bitter  pang. 


Like  racking  engines. 


Burns. 


199 

19.  As  foi'  stupid  reason, 

That  stalking,  ten-foot  rule, 
She's  always  out  of  season, 
I  A  tedious,  testy  fool. 


Mrs.  Follen. 


20.  Gentleman. — That  most  active  member  of  mortal  • 

thmgs,  J 

A  xoomarCs  tongue  ;  something  like  a  smoke-jack,  < 

For  it  nfoes  ever,  without  winding  up.  \ 

John  Tobin — Honey  Moon.  I 

>  20.  Lady. — You  would  rather  hear  your  dog  bark  at  a  \ 


crow, 
Than  a  man  swear  he  loves  you. 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing, 


o' 


J 


21.  Age  is  dark  and  unlovely ;  it  is  like  the  glimmer- 

ing light  of  the  moon  when  it  shines  through 
broken  clouds,  and  the  mist  is  on  the  hills :  the  | 
blast  of  the  north  is  on  the  plain  ;  the  traveller  ^ 
shrinks  in  the  midst  of  his  journey.  \ 

OSSIAN.  J 

22.  To  have  odd  quirks  and  remnants  of  wit.  broken  on   •/ 

you.  I 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing.  j 

23.  Whenever  a  change  is  wrought, 
I  And  you  know  not  the  reason  why, 
5  In  your  own  or  an  old  friend's  thought. 
?  Barrv  Cornwall.  $ 


?5^ 

200 

24.  You  are  weary  of  the  endless  theme  of  Cupid's 

smiles  and  sighs, 
You  are  sick  of  reading  rigmaroles  about  "  my 

lady's  eyes;" 
You  cannot  move,  you  cannot  look  around,  below, 

above. 

But  men  and  women,  birds  and  bees,  are  prating 

about  love. 
\  R.  M.  Charlton. 

I  25.  You  hate  ingratitude  more  in  man, 

i  Than  lying,  vainness,  babbling,  drunkenness, 

?  Or  any  taint  of  vice  whose  strong  corruption 

•<  Inhabits  our  frail  blood. 

Twelfth  Night. 

\  '  \ 

\  2G.  There  are  haughty  steps  that  would  walk  the  globe   | 

\  O'er  necks  of  humbler  ones;  ;; 

\  You  would  scorn  to  bow  to  their  jewell'd  robes,  \ 

\  Or  the  beam  of  their  coin-lit  suns.  \ 

\  Miss  L.  P.  Smith.  \ 


27.  You'd  rather  hear  a  brazen  candlestick  turn'd, 

Or  a  dry  wheel  grate  on  an  axle-tree, 
And  that  would  set  your  teeth  nothing  on  edge, 
Nothing  so  much  as  mincing  poetry. 

Henry  IV. 

28.  In  your  soul  you  loathe 
All  affectation.     'Tis  your  perfect  scorn. 
Object  of  your  implacable  disgust. 

CowpER — Task. 


< 


201 


29.  Gentleman. — To  pick  up  fans  and  knitting-needles,  \ 
And  list  to  songs,  and  tunes,  and  watch  for  smiles,  | 
And  smile  at  pretty  prattle. 

BvRO.N — Werner.  i 

29.  Lady. — An  a  lover  be  tardy,  you  had  as  lief  be   | 
I  wooed  of  a  snail ;  for  though  the  snail  comes   < 

slowly,  he  carries  his  house  on  his  head. 

As  Yoii  Like  It. 

30.  That  the  king  should  reign  on  a  throne  of  gold, 
Fenced  round  by  his  power  divine  ; 
That  the  haron  should  sit  in  his  castle  old, 
Drinking  his  ripe  red  wine  ; 
While  below,  below,  in  his  ragged  coat, 
The  ieggar  he  tuneth  a  hungry  note. 
And  the  spinner  is  bound  to  his  weary  thread. 
And  the  deUor  lies  down  with  an  aching  head. 

Barry  Cornwall. 


31.  Lighted  halls, 

Cramm'd  full  of  fools  and  fiddles. 

R.  C.  Sands. 


\  32.  To  hear 

\  The  roaring  of  the  raging  elements, 

\          To  know  all  human  skill,  all  human  strength  5 

Avail  not ;  to  look  round,  and  only  see  \ 

The  mountain  wave,  incumbent  with  its  weight  | 

Of  bursting  waters  o'er  the  reeling  bark  ;—  i 

jj  _  ^ ^__ ^-..^.^ • . ->? 


"5S 

202  i 

i 

Oh,  God,  this  is  indeed  a  dreadful  thing !  \ 

And  he  who  hath  endured  the  horror  once  ^ 

Of  such  an  hour,  doth  never  hear  the  storm  > 

Howl  round  his  home,  but  he  remembers  it,  ' 

And  thinks  upon  the  suffering  mariner.  ; 

SouTHEY — Madoc,  \ 


33.  I  perceive  you  delight  not  in  music. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor 

34.  You  hate  the  gold  and  silver  which  persuade 
Weak  men  to  foWow  far -faligmng  trade  ; 
Who  madly  think  the  flowery  mountain's  side, 
The  fountain's  murmur,  and  the  valley's  pride, 
The  river's  flow,  less  pleasing  to  behold 
Than  dreary  deserts,  if  they  lead  to  gold. 


\ 


Collins — Eclogues  J 

35.  To  climb  life's  worn  and  heavy  wheel,  > 
Which  draws  up  nothing  new.  \ 

Young — Night  Thoughts.  \ 

36.  To  tax  a  lad  voice  to  slander  music.     An   he   had  ^ 

been  a  dog  that  should  have  howled  thus,  they  ^ 

would  have  hanged  him.  '' 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing.  \ 


\  37.  It  moves  you  more  perhaps  than  folly  ought,  \ 

\  When  some  green  heads,  as  void  of  wit  as  thought,    < 


^  203 

I  Suppose  themselves  monopolists  of  sense, 

\  And  wiser  mens'  ability  pretence. 

\  COWPER. 

< 

I  38.   Gentleman. — A  woinan  moved,  which  like  a  foun- 
tain troubled 
(Is)  muddy,  ill-seeming,  thick,  bereft  of  beauty. 
And  in  no  wise  is  meet  or  reasonable. 

Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

38.  Lady. —  The  heavens  preserve  me 
From  that  dull  blessing,  an  obedient  husband. 

ToBiN — Honey  Moon. 

i 

39.  You're  tired  o^  visits,  modes,  and  forms,  \ 

And  Jlatteries  paid  to  fellow-worms  ;  I 

Their  conversation  cloys. 

Dr.  Wati^ 

c  t 

\  40.  The  spider,  that  weaver  of  cunning  so  dc.  p,  \ 

\  Who  rolls  himself  up  in  a  ball  to  sleep.  \ 

Mrs.  Sigourney.  \ 

< 

41.  Kjly  that  tickles  the  nasal  tip.  ; 

Mis3  H.  F.  Gould.  '■, 

) 
X  42.  Man  delights  not  thee  ;  no,  nor  woman  neither.  \ 

Henry  IV.  \ 


J  43.  Ch\iYc\\-ydiTdsunadorn''d  with  shades  \ 

\  And  hlossoms Naked  rows  o{  graves  \ 


204  < 

And  melancholy  ranks  of  monuments  ; 

M'here  the  coarse  grass  between 

Shoots  up  its  dull  green  spikes,  and  in  the  wind 

Hisses ; 

where  the  neglected  bramble 

Grows  near  the  dead. 

Bryant. 

;  44.  You  all  punctilios  hate, 

Though  long  familiar  with  the  great. 

Swift. 

I  45.  That  he  who's  right,  and  he  who  swerveth, 
\  Meet  at  the  goal  the  same, 

I  Where  no  one  hath  what  he  deserveth, 

l  Not  even  an  empty  name. 

>  Barry  Cornwall. 

> 

j  46.  Wooing,  wedding,  and  repenting. 

^  Much  Ado  About  NotJiins. 

\ 

I  47.  Soft-buzzing  slander — silky  moth  that  eats 

s  An  honest  name. 

\  Thomson. 

48.  The  blood-extracting  bill  and  filmy  wing, 

I  The  light  pump,  and  freckled  feet — 

\  Of  the  musquiio. 
\  Bryant 

I  49.   You  do  not  like  hut  yet; 

But  yet  is  as  a  jailer  to  brina:  forth  \ 

Some  monstrous  malefactor.  \ 

I                                                                  Antony  and  Cleopatra.  \ 
.« 


I  .  205 

I  50.  Gentleman. —  You'd  rather 

Ride  a  day's  liuntiiii^  on  an  outworn  jade, 
Than  follow  in  the  train  of  a  great  man 
In  his  dull  pageantries. 

BvRON — Werner. 


50, 


Lady. — Never  yet  did  housewife  notable 
Greet  with  a  smile  a  rainy  ivashing-day. 


Mrs.  Barbaulo. 


51.  Thou  dread'st  to  see 
The  glowing  summer  sun, 

And  balmy  blossoms  on  the  tree 
Unfolding  one  by  one  ; 
They  speak  of  things  which  once  have  been, 

But  never  more  can  be  : 
And  earth  all  deck'd  in  smiles  again 

Is  still  a  waste  to  thee. 

Sarah  H.  Whitman. 

52.  Softest  winds  are  dreary, 
And  summer  sunlight  weary, 
And  sweetest  things  uncheery, 

You  know  not  why. 
i  3.  R.  Lowell. 

53.  The  Guinea-hen, 
Which  keeps  a  piercing  and  perpetual  scream. 

Mrs.  Sigournky. 

9t 


\  206  I 

54.  Sleep,  infested  with  the  burning  sting  ; 
Of  bug  infernal,  who  the  live-long  night  \ 
With  direst  suction  sips  thy  liquid  gore.  | 

Robert  Ferguson  I 

55.  When  you  behold  a  spider 
Prey  on  a  fly,  a  magpie  on  a  worm, 
Or  view  a  butcher,  with  horn-handled  knife, 
Slaughter  a  tender  lamb  as  dead  as  mutton, 
Indeed,  indeed  you're  very,  very  sick  ! 

Horace  and  James  Smith — Rejected  Addresses. 


I 


56.  Where'er  that  place  the  priests  ca'  hell, 
»  Whence  a'  the  tones  of  misery  yell, 

And  ranked  plagues  their  numbers  tell, 

In  dreadfu'  row, 

Thou,  toothache,  surely  bear'st  the  bell 

Amang  them  a' ! 

Burns. 

57.  You  scorn  this  hated  scene 

Of  masking  and  disguise. 

Where  men  on  men  still  gleam 

i  With  falseness  in  their  eyes, 

I  Where  all  is  counterfeit. 

And  truth  hath  never  say, 

Where  hearts  themselves  do  cheat, 

Concealing  hope's  decay, 

And,  writhing  at  the  stake. 

Themselves  do  liars  make. 

Motherwell. 


j  207 

;  ns.  You  call  the  time  misspent  that  is  bestow'd 
On  lou(]-tongued  orators,  whose  art  it  is 
To  launch  their  hearers  upon  passion's  tide, 
And  drive  them  on  by  gusts  of  windy  words. 

Cumberland — Calvary. 

59.  You  do  despise  a  liar  as  you  do  despise  one  that  is 

false,  or  as  you  despise  one  that  is  not  true. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

60.  Songs  and  unbaked  poetry, 
Such  as  the  dabblers  of  our  time  contrive, 
That  has  no  weight,  nor  wheel  to  move  the  mind, 
Nor  indeed  nothing  but  an  empty  sound. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher — The  Elder  Brother. 


WHERE     OR     WHAT     WILL     BE    YOTIR 
RESIDENCES 


The  world  was  all  before  her,  where  to  choose 
Her  place  of  rest,  and  Providence  her  guide. 

Milton- 

The  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  of  itself 
Can  make  a  heaven  of  hell,  a  hell  of  heaven. 

Milton. 


WHERE   OR  WHAT  WILL    BE    YOUR  \ 
RESIDENCE?  I 


V  ;•  »»*S 


EAR  some   fair  town  you'll  have  a 
©•a  private  seal, 

Built  uniform,  not  little,  nor  too  great; 
It  shall  within  no  other  things  contain, 
But  what  are  useful,  necessary,  plain; 
A  little  garden  grateful  to  the  eye, 
While  a  cool  rivulet  runs  murmuring  by. 

PomfreVs  Choice. 


2.  Amongst  the  vines, 

See'st  thou  not  where  thy  villa  stands  ?  The  moon- 
beam 
Strikes  on  the  granite  column,  and  mountains 

Rise  sheltering  round  it. 

Lady  Flora  Hastings. 


3.  Cliild  of  the  toion  and  hustling  street, 
'What  woes  and  snares  await  thy  feet ! 


> 


212 

Thy  paths  are  paved  for  many  miles, 
Thy  groves  and  hills  are  peaks  and  tiles. 

Allan  Cunningham. 

4.  A  warm  hut  simple  home,  where  thou'lt  enjoy 

i  With  one,  who  shares  thy  pleasures  and  thy  heart, 

\  Sweet  converse,  sipping  calm  the  fragrant  lymph 

I  Which  neatly  is  prepared. 

^  COWPER. 

i 

I  5.  Low  in  the  glen, 

^        Down  which  a  little  stream  hath  furrow'd  deep 
I        'Tween  meeting  birchen  boughs,  a  shelvy  channel, 
>        And  brawling  mingles  with  the  western  tide. 
{        Far  up  the  stream,  almost  beyond  the  roar 
\        Of  storm-bulged  breakers,  foaming  o'er  the  rocks 
With  furious  dash,  your  lowly  dwelling  lurks. 
Surrounded  by  a  circlet  of  the  stream. 
Before  the  wattled  door,  a  greensward  plat 
With  daises  gay,  pastures  a  playful  lamb. 
A  pebbly  path,  deep-worn,  leads  up  the  hill. 
Winding  among  the  trees,  by  wheel  untouch'd. 
On  every  side  it  is  a  shelter'd  spot, 
So  high  and  suddenly  the  woody  steeps 
Arise.     One  only  way,  downward  the  stream. 
Just  o'er  the  hollow,  'tween  the  meeting  boughs. 
The  distant  wave  is  seen,  with  now  and  then 
The  glimpse  of  passing  sail ;  though  when  the  breeze 
Cresteth  the  distant  wave,  this  little  nook 
Is  all  so  calm,  that  on  the  limberest  spray 


213 

The  sweet  bird  chanteth  motionless,  the  leaves 
At  times  scarce  fluttering. 

Grahame — Birds  of  Scotland. 


>  6.  Neat  is  your  house  ;  each  table,  chair,  and  stool 
Stands  in  its  place,  or  moving,  moves  by  rule ; 
No  lively  print  or  picture  grace  the  room, 
A  plain  brown  paper  lends  its  decent  gloom. 

Crabbe. 

7.  A  summer  lodge  amid  the  tv/Id, — 

'Tis  shadow 'd  by  the  tulip-tree,  'tis  mantled  by  the 

vine  ; 
The  wild  plum  sheds   its  yellow  fruit  from  fragrant 

thickets  nigh, 

And  flowery  prairies  from  the  door  stretch  till  they 

meet  the  sky. 

Bryant. 

Beside  a  jmbVtc  way, 

Thick  strewn  with  summer  dust,  and  a  great  stream 

Of  people  hurrying  to  and  fro. 

Shelley. 

I.  Crowning  a  gradual  hill,  your  mansion  swells 
In  ancient  English  grandeur;  turrets,  spires, 
And  windows,  climbing  high  from  base  to  roof, 
In  wide  and  radiant  rows,  bespeak  its  birth 
Coeval  with  those  rich  cathedral  fanes, 
(Gothic  ill-famed,)  where  harmony  results 


^^ 


5 


214  I 

\ 
From  disunited  parts  ;  and  shapes  minute,  > 

At  once  distinct  and  blended,  boldly  form  j 

One  vast  majestic  whole.  | 

W.  Mason — The  English  Garden.  s 

10.  In  a  proud  city  and  a  ricli, 
A  city  fair  and  old, 
Fill'd  with  the  world's  most  costly  things, 

Of  precious  stones  and  gold  ; 
Of  silks,  fine  wool,  and  spiceries, 
And  all  that's  boun;ht  and  sold. 


s 


Marv  HOWITT  > 

< 

11.  I  see,  I  see  the  rustic  porch, 

And  close  beside  the  door 
The  old  elm,  waving  still  as  green 

As  in  the  days  of  yore.  \ 

I  see  the  wreathing  smoke  ascend  < 

In  azure  columns  up  the  sky,  > 

I  see  the  twittering  swallow  | 

Around  in  giddy  circles  fly.-  \ 

T.  McLellan.  ^ 

12.  A  house,  whence,  as  by  stealth,  you  catch  \ 

Among  the  hills  a  glimpse  of  busy  life,  | 

That  sooths,  not  stirs.  ^ 

Rogers. 

\  13.  In  stately  dwelling  built  of  squared  hri^cke. 

\  Spenser. 


215 


14.  A  city,  that  great  sea  whose  ebb  and  flow 
At  once  is  deaf  and  loud. 
In  its  depth  what  treasure — you  will  see. 


Shelley. 


<  15.  In  a  fair  and  stately  mansion,  with  old  woods 
\  Girdled  around. 


HOWITT 


16.  A  low,  sweet  home,  \ 

A  pastoral  dwelling  with  its  ivied  porch,  \ 

And  lattice,  gleaming  through  the  leaves.  \ 

Heuans.  , 


17.  You  shall  dwell  in  some  bright  little  isle  of  your  \ 


\         In  a  blue  summer  ocean  far  off  and  alone, 

]  Where  a   leaf  never    dies    in    the  still   blooming 


^  bowers, 

<  And  the  bee  banquets  on  through  a  whole  year  of  \ 

\                 flowers.  \ 

\  Moore.          \ 


18.  You  scarce  upon  the  borders  enter, 
Before  you're  at  the  very  centre. 
Though  small  your  farm,  it  has  a  house 
Full  large  to  entertain  a  mouse  ; 
But  if  it's  enter'd  by  a  rat. 
There  is  no  room  to  bring  a  cat. 
Round  your  garden  is  a  walk 


.Jg 


216 

No  longer  tnan  a  tailor's  chalk  ; 
One  salad  makes  a  shift  to  squeeze 
Up  through  a  tuft  you  call  your  trees, 
And,  once  a  year,  a  single  rose 
Peeps  from  the  bud,  but  never  blows. 
In  vain  then  you'll  expect  its  bloom, 
It  cannot  blow  for  want  of  room. 
In  short,  in  all  your  boasted  seat 
There's  nothing  but  yourself  that's  great. 


Swift. 


19.  Your  island  lies  nine  leagues  away  ;  I 

Along  its  solitary  shore  > 

Of  craggy  rock,  and  sandy  bay,  I 

No  sound  but  ocean's  roar,  } 

Save  where  the  bold,  wild  sea-bird  makes  her  home,  \ 

Her  shrill  cry  coming  through  the  sparkling  foam,  j 

R.  H.  Dana. 


20.  Sweet  sights,  sweet  sounds,  all  sights  all  sounds 
excelling  ; 
Oh,  'tis  a  ravishing  spot,  form'd  for  a  Poet's  dwell- 


^ 


mg 


Drake.  \ 


21.  A  city 

Where  trade  and  joy  in  every  husy  street 
Mingling  are  heard,  and  in  whose  crowded  ports 
The  rising  masts  an  endless  prospect  ^ield. 

TnoMsoji. 


217 

22.  A  valley,  from  the  river  shore  withdrawn,  \ 
Shall  be  your  home — two  quiet  woods  between,  \ 
Whose  lofty  verdure  overlooks  the  lawn ;  \ 
And  waters,  to  their  resting-place  serene,  \ 
Come  freshening  and  reflecting  all  the  scene.  ^ 

Campbell.  ^ 

23.  Please  step  in 
And  visit  roun'  an'  roun' ; 

There's  naught  superfluous  to  gie  pain 

Or  costly  to  be  foun',  \ 

Yet  a'  is  clean.  < 

Allan  Ramsay — Gentle  Shepherd.  \ 

i 


24.  A  whitewash'd  wall,  a  nicely  sanded  floor,  { 
A  varnish'd  clock  that  clicks  behind  the  door,  | 
A  chest  contrived  a  double  debt  to  pay,  | 
A  bed  by  night,  a  chest  of  drawers  by  day  ;  ? 
While  broken  tea-cups,  wisely  kept  for  show,  ? 
Ranged  on  the  chimney,  glisten  in  a  row.  i 

Goldsmith — Deserted  Village.  \ 

25.  How  beautiful  it  stands. 

Behind  its  elm-trees'  screen. 
With  simple  attic  cornice  crown'd. 
All  graceful  and  serene  ! 

Mrs.  Sigourney 

26.  O'er  the  glad  waters  of  the  dark  blue  sea. 
Your  thoughts  as  boundless  and  your  soul  as  free, 


^.. 


19 


ss 


218 

]        Far  as  the  breeze  can  bear,  the  billows  foam, 
I  Survey  your  empire,  and  behold  your  Jiome  f 

\  Byron. 

\ 
V 

I  27.  A  pastoral  scene  of  your  own  land, 

I  Groves  darkly  green,  neat  farms,  and  pastures  gay 

\  With  golden  flowers  ;  brooks  stealing  over  sand, 

j  Or  smooth-worn  pebbles,  murmuring  light  away  ; — 

{  Blue  rye-fields,  yielding  to  the  gentle  hand 

I  Of  the  cool  west  wind  ;  scented  fields  of  hay, 

\  Falling  in  purple  bloom  ! 

J  Percival. 

<  28.  A  pleasant  aspect  shall  your  parlor  wear, — 
\  Pictures,  and  busts,  and  books,  and  flowers, 

And  a  light  hearth  where  one  may  sit  for  hours, 
And  feel  the  minutes  in  their  rapid  flight. 
Yet  never  think  to  count  them  as  they  go  ; 
The  mind,  in  converse  sweet,  beguiled  so. 

Mrs.  a.  M.  Wells. 

i  29.  A  light  commodious  chamber 

>  Looking  out  to  the  hills,  and  where  the  shine 

\  Of  the  great  sun  may  enter. 

^  M«ARY    HOWITT 

\ 

I  30.   It  is  a  chosen  plot  of  fertile  land, 

Emongst  wide  waves  sett,  like  little  nest, 

As  if  it  had  by  nature's  cunning  hand 

Bene  choycely  picked  out  from  all  the  rest, 

And  laid  forth  for  ensample  of  the  best. 

Spensek. 


K' 


219 

31.  A  mansion,  where  domestic  love 
And  truth  breathe  simple  kindness  to  the  heart; 
Where  white-arm'd  childhood  twines  the  neck  of 

age; 
Where  hospitable  cares  light  up  the  hearth, 
Cheering  the  lonely  traveller  on  his  way. 

Mrs    GiLSJAN. 

32.  Thine  be  a  cot  hes^ide  the  hill: 

A  beehive's  hum  shall  sooth  thine  ear  ; 

A  willowy  brook  that  turns  the  mill 

With  many  a  fall,  shall  linger  near. 

Rogers. 

33.  The  dense  city's  roofs 

Throng  around  thee,  and  the  vertic'  sun 

Pours  from  those  glowing  tiles  a  fervid  heat 

Upon  your  shrinking  nerves. 

Mrs.  Sigournet. 

34.  A  lodge  of  ample  size, 

But  strange  of  structure  and  device  ; 

Of  such  materials,  as  around 

The  workman's  hand  has  readiest  found. 

Scott. 

35.  Among  the  jumbled  heap  of  murky  buildings. 

Keats. 

36.  You  will  be  blest  as  now  you  are  with  friends,  and 

home,  and  all 


« 


^W^f-.^^  ^-•^•^^\fj- 


220  \ 


That  in  the  exulting  joy  of  love  your  own  you 
fondly  call ; 

Beloved  and  loving  faces,  that  you've  known  so 
long  and  well, 

The  dear  familiar  places  where  your  childish  foot- 
steps fell,  \ 

Where  you  join'd   with    careless  heart  and  free   5 
your  playmates'  blooming  band,  | 

As  happy  still  as  now  in  this, — you'll  tread  your  \ 

native  land.  \ 

Mrs.  Osgood.  \ 

37.  On  the  well-sloped  banks  arise  trim  clumps,  \ 
Some  round  and  some  oblong,  of  shrubs  exotic  ;  \ 
While,  at  respectful  distance,  rises  up  \ 
The  red  brick  wall,  with  flues  and  chimney-tops  \ 
And  many  a  leafy  crucifix  adorn'd. 

The  smooth  expanse, 
Well  cropp'd,  and  daily,  as  the  owner's  chin. 
Not  one  irregularity  presents, 
Not  even  one  grassy  tuft  in  which  a  bird 
May  find  a  home  and  cheer  the  dull  domain. 

Grahame — Birds  of  Scotland. 

38.  The  city's  frloom,  that  falls 
Where  the  same  window  fronts  the  same  dull  walls  ; 
To  see  new,  weary  idlers  tread  once  more 
The  mud  or  dust,  which  crowds  have  trod  before, 
Or  the  gay  cliariot  loiter  to  await 
Some  fool  you  scorn,  or  envious  flirt  you  hate. 

Dr   Brown — Bower  of  Spring. 


j  221 

<  39.  A  lone  dweUing,  built  by  wliom,  or  how, 

<  None  of  the  rustic  island  people  know, 
i  The  isle  and  house  are  thine. — 

\  Nature,  with  all  her  children,  haunts  the  hill  ; 

i  Tiie  spotted  deer  bask  in  the  fresh  moonlight, 

\  Before  thy  gate. — Be  this  thy  home  in  life. 

<  Shelley. 


40.  In  a  city  vast  and  populous, 

Whose  thronging  multitude 
Sends  forth  a  sound  afar  off  heard, 

Strong  as  the  ocean  flood  ; 
A  strong,  deep  sound  of  many  sounds. 

Toil,  pleasure,  pain,  delight. 
And  traffic,  myriad-wheel'd,  whose  din 

Ceases  not  day  and  night. 

Mary  Howitt. 

41.  A  simple  liome, 
A  plain  well-order'd  household,  without  show 

Of  wealth  or  fashion. 

Percival. 

42.  All  day  within  your  dreary  house 
The  doors  upon  their  hinge  will  creak, 
The  blue-fly  sing  in  the  pane,  the  mouse 
Behind  the  mouldering  wainscot  creep. 
Or  from  the  crevice  peer  about. 

Tennyson. 

19* 


\ 


^  43.  Upo7i  a  green  hank  side,  | 

\  Skirting  the  smooth  edge  of  a  gentle  river,  i 

\  Whose  waters  seem  unwillingly  to  glide,  | 

}  Like  parting  friends,  who  linger  ere  they  sever.  ■ 

Drake. 


44.  Where  streets  are  stijiing,  hustling,  noisy,  dry  ; 
Hot  are  the  pavements  as  an  oven  floor ;  I 
Dingy-red  brick  grows  tiresome  to  the  eye.  | 

Mary  Howitt.  I 

\ 

45.  RefinemenV s  chosen  seat,  \ 

Art's  trophied  dwelling,  learning's  green  retreat. 

Sprague.  \ 


46.  I  know  the  spot ; 

The  curtain'd  windows  half  exclude  the  light, 

Yet  eager  still  to  make  their  way, 
A  thousand  elfin  sunbeams  bright. 

Glittering  about  the  carpet  play. 
But  what  attracts  you  chiefly  there 
Is  (me  who  in  a  cushion'd  rocking-chair 
Doth  sit  and  read. 

Mrs.  a.  M.  Wells. 

47.  The  wild  wind  sweeps  across  your  low  damp  floors, 

And  makes  a  weary  noise  and  wailing  moan ; 
All  night  you  hear  the  clap  of  broken  doors, 
That  on  their  rusty  hinges  grate  and  groan  • 


> 


\  223 

And  then  old  voices,  calling  from  behind 

The   worn  and  wormy  wainscot,   flapping   in  the 

wind. 

Thomas  Miller. 

48.  In  simple  western  style, 

With  all  your  chambers  on  the  lower  floor ; 

In  fact,  of  stories  you  will  boast  no  more 

Than  simply  one.     'Tis  at  the  river's  side, 

And  near  it  grows  a  noble  sycamore  ; 

A  velvet  lawn  of  green,  outspreading  wide, 

Slopes  smoothly   down,  to  meet  the  ever-rippling 

tide. 

Mks.  Dana. 

^  49.  It  is  a  home  to  die  for,  as  it  stands 

Through  its  vine  foliage,  sending  forth  a  sound 
Of  mirthful  childhood  o'er  the  green  repose 
And  laughing  sunshine  of  the  pastures  round. 

Hemans. 

,50.  Gay  apartments. 

Where  mimic  life  beneath  the  storied  rcof 
Glows  to  the  eye,  and  at  the  painter's  touch 

i  A  new  creation  glows  along  the  walls. 

I  Arthur  Murphy — Orphan  of  China.  i 

\  51.  Down  by  the  hamlet's  hawthorn-scented  way,  | 

I  Where  round  the  cot's  romantic  glade  are  seen  j 

\  The  blossom'd  bean-field,  and  the  slopmg  green.  i 

i  Campbell.  5 


224 


i 


i 


52.  A  lonesome  lodge, 
That  stands  so  lowe  in  lonely  glen 
The  little  windowe  dim  and  darke 

Is  hung  with  ivy,  brier,  and  yewe ;  5 

No  shimmering  sun  here  ever  shone,  ^ 

No  halesome  breeze  here  ever  blewe.  > 

No  chair,  no  table  may  you  spye,  \ 

No  cheareful  hearth,  no  welcome  bed, 
Naught  save  a  rope  with  running  noose, 

That  dangling  hangs  up  o'er  your  heade. 

Percy's  Reliques — Heir  of  Linne. 

53.  The  mountains,  the  mountains  !  amidst  them  is  your 

home ; 
To  their  pure  and  sparkling  fountains  impatiently 

you  come  ; 
Their  bleak  and  towering  summits  invade  the  dark 

blue  sky, 
But  o'er  their  rudest  ridges  your  fancy  loves  to  fly. 

Dr.  S.  H.  Dickson. 

54.  A  lowly  roof; 

Thou  know'st  it  well,  and  yet  'twill  seem  more  low 
Than  it  was  wont  to  seem,  for  thou  wilt  be 
A  visitant  of  loftier  domes  and  halls. 
Meet  for  the  feet  of  princes. 


Mrs.  Sigourney 


55.  Your  house  a  cottage  more 


b'- 


Than  palace,  and  will  fitting  be 


I  225 

For  all  your  use,  not  luxury. 
Your  garden  painted  o'er 
With  Nature's  hand,  not  Art's,  will  pleasures  yield 
Horace  might  envy  in  his  Sabine  field. 

Cowley. 

5";.  You'll   think   yourself  superbly  off,  though  rather 

cramp'd  in  bed. 

If  your  garret  keep  the  winter  rain  from  dropping 

on  your  head. 

Albert  Pike. 

57.  A  snug  thack  house ;  before  the  door  a  green, 
Hens  on  the  rmdding,  ducks  in  pools  are  seen. 
On  this  side  stands  a  barn,  on  that  a  byre, 
A  peat-stack  joins,  an'  forms  a  rural  square. 
The  house  is  yours, — there  shall  we  see  you  lean 
And  to  your  turfy  seat  invite  a  frien'. 

Allan  Ramsay — Gentle  Shepherd. 

58.  It  is  a  quiet  picture  of  delight, 
Your  humble  cottage,  hiding  from  the  sun 
In  the  thick  woods.     We  see  it  not  till  then. 
When  at  its  porch.     Rudely  but  neatly  wrought. 
Four  columns  make  its  entrance ;  slender  shafts, 
The  rough  bark  yet  upon  them,  as  they  came 
From  the  old  forest 

5  Prolific  vines 

\  Have  wreath'd  them  well,  and  half  obscured  the 

rinds 


jnn 

X 


is  a  cottage  small  and  fair 
As  a  cloud  in  summer  air. 


Park  Benjamin 


91 


*  226  I 

Unpromising  that  wrap  them.     Crowding  leaves  i 

Of  glistening  green,  and  clustering  bright  flowers  ; 

I  Of  purple,  in  whose  cups  throughout  the  day  j 

'  The  humming-bird  wantons  boldly,  wave  around  I 

>  And  woo  the  gentle  eye  and  delicate  touch.  t 

t  This  is  the  dwelling,  and  'twill  be  to  thee 

\  Quiet's  especial  temple.  \ 

J  W.  G.  SiMMa 

I  59.  That  dear  old  home  ! 

i  Something  of  old  ancestral  pride  it  keeps, 

I  Though  fallen  from  its  early  power  and  vastness ! 

The  sunlight  seems  to  thy  eyes  brighter  there 

Than  wheresoever  else. 

Fanny  Kemblk. 

60.  In  a  vale  with  dwellings  strown, 
One  is  standing  all  alone  ; 
White  it  rises  mid  the  leaves, 
Woodbines  clamber  o'er  its  eaves, 
And  the  honeysuckle  falls  } 

Pendant  on  its  silent  walls.  5 


> 


\ 


WHAT    IS    YOUR    DESTINY1 


You  unconcern'd 
And  calm,  can  meet  your  coming  destiny, 
In  all  its  charming,  or  its  frightful  shapes. 

Dr.  Watts. 

I  have  an  ear  that  craves  for  every  thing, 
That  hath  the  smallest  sign  or  omen  in  it. 

Joanna  Baillie. 

Let  me  deem  that 

Some  unknown  influence,  some  sweet  oracle, 

Communicates  between  us  though  unseen, 

In  absence,  and  attracts  us  to  each  other. 

Bybon. 


•5S 


WHAT  IS  YOUR  DESTINY? 


i^f^   E'LL  draw  a  bonny  silken  purse  ; 

Ye'll    ca'  your  coach,  ye'll  ca'  your 


Burns. 


Of  the  present  much  is  bright, 

And  in  the  coming  years  I  see 
A  brilliant  and  a  cheering  liffht, 

Which  burns  before  thee  constantly. 

W.  D.  Gallagher. 


3.  A  better  cellar  nowhere  can  be  found  ; 
The  pantry  never  is  without  baked  meat, 
And  fish  and  flesh,  so  plenteous  and  complete : 
It  snows  within  your  house  of  meat  and  drink, 
Of  all  the  dainties  that  a  man  can  think. 

Chaucer. 


4.  Gentleman. — Thine  never  was  a  woman's  dower 
Of  tenderness  and  love  ! 


X^ 


.^  ;? 


I  230 

i        Thou  who  canst  chain  the  eagle's  power, 
\  Canst  never  tame  the  dove. 

E.  C.  Emburt. 

4.  Lady. — Let  me  gaze  for  a  moment,  that  ere  I  die 
I  may  read  thee,  lady,  a  prophecy. 
That  brow  may  beam  in  glory  awhile, 
That  cheek  may  bloom,  and  that  lip  may  smile. 
But  clouds  shall  darken  that  brow  of  snow. 
And  sorrow  blight  thy  bosom's  glow. 

Miss  L.  Davidson. 

5.  The  best  establishment  in  the  city. 
Coaches  and  horses,  hounds  and  liveried  servants. 

Mary  Howitt. 

6.  Thou  seest  only  what  is  fair, 
f  Thou  sippest  only  what  is  sweet ; 
j  Thou  wilt  mock  at  fate  and  care, 
I  Leave  the  chaff,  and  take  the  wheat. 
i  R.  W.  Emerson 

I  7.  Ye  build,  ye  build,  but  ye  enter  not  in  ! 

I  Mrs.  Sigournet. 

> 

\  8.  I'll  warrant  thee  from  drowning,  though  thy 

i       Ship  were  no  stronger  than  a  nut-shell. 

\  Tempest. 

•,  9.  The  sea  of  ambition  is  tempest-toss'd, 
i  And  thy  hopes  may  vanish  like  foam ; 


'« 


23] 


But  when  sails  are  shiver'd  and  rudder  lost, 

Mrs.  Hale. 


Then  look  to  the  light  of  home  ! 


<, 


10.  Your  life's  a  summer  even, 

Whose  sun  of  light,  though  set 
Amidst  the  clouds  of  heaven. 

Leaves  streams  of  brightness  yet. 

BoWRINQ. 

11.  In  a  narrow  sphere, 
The  little  circle  of  domestic  love, 
You  will  be  known  and  loved  ;  the  world  beyond 
Is  not  for  you. 

SOUTHEV. 

\  12.  Thou  dwell'st  on  sorrow's  high  and  barren  place, 
«  But  round  about  the  mount  an  angel-guard — 

Chariots  of  fire,  horses  of  fire — encamp, 

To  keep  thee  safe  for  heaven  ! 

Mrs,  Ellet. 

13.  To  cheer  with  sweet  repast  the  fainting  guest. 

To  lull  the  weary  on  the  couch  of  rest, 

To  warm  the  traveller,  numb'd  with  winter  cold, 

The  young  to  cherish,  to  support  the  old, 

The  sad  to  shelter,  and  the  lost  direct — 

These  are  your  cares,  and  this  your  glorious  task; 

Can  heaven  a  nobler  give,  or  mortals  ask  ?  \ 

Sir  William  Jones.  \ 

i  ( 

a^ ^ ^^^^  .•v^...^.-^x. ^^-^.^^.^ ^  % 


i 

\  232 

14.  The  sordid  cares  in  which  you  dwell 

Shrink  and  consume  your  heart. 

Bryant. 

I  15.  A  wide  future  is  before  you ; 

5  Your  heart  will  beat  for  fame, 

>  And  you  will  learn  to  breathe  with  love 

?  The  music  of  a  name, 

Writ  on  the  tablets  of  that  heart 
In  characters  of  flame. 

J.  O.  Sargent. 

16.  To  grow  in  the  world's  approving  eyes, 

In  friendship's  smile,  and  home's  caress. 
Collecting  all  the  heart's  sweet  ties 
Into  one  knot  of  happiness. 

Moore. 


? 


17.  Sorely  harass'd,  and  tired    at    last  with  fortune's   s 
vain  delusions,  O,  > 

You'll  drop   your  schemes  like  idle  dreams,  and    \     v 

come  to  this  conclusion,  O, — 
The  past  was  bad,  the  future  hid,  the  good  and  ill 
I  untried,  O, 

\  But  the  present  hour  is  in  your  power,  and  so  you 

\  will  enjoy  it,  O. 

?  Bl'RNS. 

\  18.  You  will  be  blest  exceedingly  ;  your  store 

\  Grow  daily,  weekly,  more  and  more,  | 


\  233 

> 

\  And  peace  so  multiply  around, 

^  Your  very  hearth  seem  holy  ground. 

I  Mary  IIowitt 

19.  With  steady  aim  your  fortune  chase, 
Keen  hope  let  every  sinew  brace, 

Through  fair,  through  foul,  urge  on  your  race, 

And  seize  the  prey  ; 

Then  cannie,  in  some  cozie  place, 

Thou'lt  close  life's  day. 

Burns. 

20.  In  your  dreams  a  form  you'll  view. 
That  thinks  on  you  and  loves  you  too ; 
You  start,  and  when  the  vision's  flown 
You'll  weep  that  you  are  all  alone. 

H.  K.  White 

21.  Quiet  by  day, 

Sound  sleep  by  night,  study  and  ease 

Together  mix'd,  sweet  recreation, 

And  innocence  which  most  doth  please, 

With  meditation. 

Pope. 

22.  Gentleman. — A  gentle  lover  shalt  thou  be, 

Sitting  at  thy  loved  one's  side  ; 

>  She  giving  her  whole  soul  to  thee, 

>  Without  a  thought  or  wish  of  pride, 
\           And  she  shall  be  thv  clicrish'd  bride. 

\  J.  R.  Lowell. 


234  I 

I  22.  Lady. — Be  thou  as  chaste  as  ice,  as  pure  as  snow,    I 
Thou  shah  not  escape  calumny.  I 

Shaespeark.  i 

23.  Every  day 
A  little  life,  a  blank  to  be  inscribed 
With  gentle  deeds,  such  as  in  after  time 
Console,  rejoice,  whene'er  you  turn  the  leaf 
To  read  them. 

Rogers. 

24.  Through  many  a  clime  'tis  yours  to  go, 

With  many  a  retrospection  cursed  ; 
And  all  your  solace  is  to  know, 

Whate'er  betide,  you've  known  the  worst. 

Byron. 

> 

25.  Rouse  to  some  high  and  holy  work  of  love,  < 

And  thou  an  angel's  happiness  shalt  know,  I 

Shalt  bless  the  earth  while  in  the  world  above  ;  | 

The  good,  begun  by  thee  shall  onward  flow. 
In  many  a  branching  stream,  and  wider  flow. 

Carlos  Wilcox. 

26.  You  shall  go  down  as  men  have  ever  done, 
And  tread  the  pathway  worn  by  common  tramp. 

A.  C.  CoxK. 


I  27.  Friendship  shall  still  thy  evening  feasts  adorn,  • 

I  And  blooming  peace  shall  ever  bless  thy  morn,  { 


I  235 

>  Succeeding  years  their  happy  race  still  run, 

I  And  age  unheeded  by  delight  come  on. 

\  Prior. 


28.  Gentleman. — She's  fair  and  fause  that  caused  your 

smart, 

You  will  lo'e  her  mickle  and  lang ; 

She  will  break  her  vow,  she  will  break  your  heart, 

And  ye  may  e'en  go  hang. 

Burns. 

28.  Lady. — Gay  hope  is  yours  by  fancy  led, 

Less  pleasing  when  possess'd, 

The  tear  forgot  as  soon  as  shed. 

The  sunshine  of  the  breast. 

Gray. 


29.  Single  as  a  stray  glove. 

Fanny  Kemble. 


30.  Gentleman. — You  will  not  waste  your  spring  of 
youth 
In  idle  dalliance.     You  will  plant  rich  seeds 
To  blossom  in  your  manhood,  and  bear  fruit         ^ 
When  you  are  old. 

)  HlLLHOUSE. 

\  30.  Lady. — To  shrine   within   your   heart's  core  one 

^  dear  image, 

i  To  think  of  it  all  day,  to  dream  all  night. 

>  Mary  Howitt. 


\ 


< 


\  236 

\  31.  The  duties  of  a  wedded  life 
5  Ilatii  heaven  ordain'd  for  thee. 


SOUTUET. 


■-; 


I  32.  To  love, 

J  Love  fondly,  truly,  fervently,  and  pine 

i  When  you  have  told  your  love,  and  sue  in  vain. 

}  Wordsworth. 

?  33.  Hope,  and  health,  and  "  learned  leisure," 

I  Friends,  books,  thy  thoughts. 

i  Barry  Cornwaix. 

34.  Toiling,  rejoicing,  sorrowing  ; 
Each  morn  will  see  some  task  begun, 

Each  evening  see  it  close  ; 

Something  attempted,  something  done, 

Will  earn  a  night's  repose. 

Longfellow. 

35.  You  will  go  east,  you  will  go  west. 

To  seek  for  what  you  will  not  find, — 
A  heart  at  peace  with  its  own  thoughts, 

A  quiet  and  contented  mind. 
You  will  seek  high,  you  will  seek  low, 
But  your  search  will  be  in  vain. 


Landon. 


i 


I  36.  A  course  of  days  composing  happy  months, 
And  they  as  happy  years ;  the  present  still 
So  like  the  past,  and  both  so  firm  a  pledge 


237 

Of  a  congenial  future,  that  the  wheels 
Of  pleasure  move  without  the  aid  of  hope. 

Wordsworth. 

37.  You  will  tread  the  path  of  fame, 
And  barter  peace  to  win  a  name. 

S.  G.  Goodrich. 

38.  Each  hour,  each  minute  of  your  life 
Sliall  be  a  golden  holiday  ;  and  if  a  cloud 
O'ercast  thee,  'twill  be  light  as  gossamer. 

G.  Coleman. 

39.  A  little,  and  content; 
The  faithful  friend,  and  cheerful  night, 
The  social  scene  of  dear  delight, 
The  conscience  pure,  the  temper  gay, 
The  musing  eve  and  busy  day. 

Thomas  Warton. 

40.  Live  where  your  father  lived,  die  where  he  diesj       { 
Live  happy,  die  happy. 

POLLOE. 

41.  You'll  use  up  life  in  anxious  cares, 
To  lay  up  hoards  for  future  years. 


Gay. 


\  42.  You  think  of  all  the  bubbles  men  are  chasing;  < 

j  They  dream  them  worlds,  because  they're  bright  '/ 

I  and  fair ;  \ 

5  i 


238  I 


You  sit  down  with  your  book,  your  fireside  facing,  , 

And  laugh  to  think  of  the  wealth  to  which  you  '■ 

are  heir.  ^ 

Crangh.  i 


i 


44.  You'll  have  a  clear  and  competent  estate, 
That  you  may  live  genteelly,  but  not  great ; 
As  much  as  you  can  moderately  spend, 

A  little  more,  sometimes,  to  oblige  a  friend. 

Pomfret's  Choice. 

45.  Rich,  hated  ;  wise,  suspected  ;  scorn 'd  if  poor  ; 

Great,   feared ;    fair,   tempted ;    high,   still   envied 

more. 

Sir  H.  Wotton. 

46.  Gentleman. —  You  love 

A  blooming  lady,  a  conspicuous  flower, 
Admired  for  beauty,  for  her  sweetness  praised, 
Whom  you  have  sensibility  to  love. 
Ambition  to  attempt,  and  skill  to  win. 

Wordsworth. 

46.  Lady. — I    fain    would   give  to  thee   the  loveliest 
things, 
For  lovely  things  belong  to  thee  of  right. 

J.  R.  LowEii. 


43.  Impell'd  with  steps  unceasing  to  pursue 
I  Some  fleeting  good  that  mocks  thee  with  the  view,     j 

Goldsmith. 


239  I 

i           ^  { 

?  47.  Oil,  you  will  still  enjoy  the  cheerful  day,  '/ 

I              Till  many  years  unheeded  by  have  roU'd  ;  I 

{          Pleased  in  your  age  to  trifle  life  away,  | 

\  And  tell  how  much  you  loved  ere  you  grew  old.   \ 

Hammond — Love  Elegies.  \ 


48.  Endless  labor  all  along,  ^ 

Endless  labor  to  do  wrong.  ^ 

Dr.  Johnson.  > 


49.  A  fearful  sign  stands  in  thy  house  of  life, 

An  enemy ;  a  fiend  lurks  close  behind 

The  radiance  of  thy  planet: — Oh,  be  warn'd  ! 

Coleridge. 

I  50.  Thy  God,  in  the  darkest  of  days,  will  be 

Greenness,  and  beauty,  and  strength  to  thee. 

Barton. 

51.  You  were  not  meant  to  struggle  from  your  birth, 

To  skulk  and  creep,  and  in  mean  pathways  range ; 

Act  with  stern  truth,  large  faith,  and  loving  will. 

Up  and  be  doing. 

J.  R.  Lowell. 

52.  Gentleman. — To  die  'midst  flame  and  smoke,  \ 
And  shout,  and  groan,  and  sabre  stroke,  I 

\  And  death-shots  fallinjj  thick  and  fast  5 

<  I 

I  As  lightning  from  the  mountain  cloud.  j 

I  IIalleck.  I 


!  240 

j  52.  Lady. —  Death  shall  come 

i  Gently,  to  one  of  delicate  mould  like  thee, 

\  As  light  winds  wandering  through  groves  of  bloom 

{  Detach  the  delicate  blossom  from  the  tree. 

I  Bryant. 

I  53.  I  know  that  pleasure's  hand  will  throw 

Her  silken  nets  about  thee, 
I  know  how  lonesome  friends  will  find 

The  long,  long  days  without  thee  ; 
But  in  thy  letters  there'll  be  joy, 

The  reading,  the  replying  ; 
They'll  kiss  each  word  that's  traced  by  thee, 

Upon  thy  truth  relying. 


54.  Your  life  "shall  be  as  it  has  been, 
A  sweet  variety  of  joys. 


Bayley. 


R.  H.  Wilde. 


55.           Neither  poverty  | 

Nor  riches,  i 

But  godliness  so  gainful  ; 

With  content.  | 

No  painted  pomp  nor  glory  that  \ 

Bewitches ;  I 

A  blameless  life  is  your  best  monument,  \ 

And  such  a  life  that  soars  a —  i 

Bove  the  sky,  \ 

Well  pleased  to  live,  but  better  pleased  to  die.  \ 

Hugh  Peters.  ; 


i 


\  241 

> 

I  56.  A  life  you'll  lead 

Which  hath  no  present  time,  but  is  made  up 

Entirely  of  to-morrows. 

Joanna  Baillie. 

I  57.  Gentleman. — I  see  Lord   Mayor  written  on  your 

forehead. 

Massinger. 

57.  Lady. — A  marriage  in  May  weather. 

Leigh  Hunt — Rimini. 

58.  You'll  have  never  a  penny  left  in  your  purse, 

Never  a  penny  but  three  ; 
And  one  is  brass,  and  another  is  lead, 

And  another  is  white  money.  \ 

Percy's  Reliques — Heir  of  Linne. 

59.  You  will  double  your  life's  fading  space, 
For  he  that  runs  it  well,  runs  twice  his  race ; 

And  in  this  true  delight, 
These  unbought  sports,  this  happy  state, 
You  will  not  fear,  nor  wish  your  fate  ; 

But  boldly  say  each  night, 
"  To-morrow  let  my  sun  his  beams  display, 
"  Or  in  clouds  hide  them  ;  /  have  lived  to-day." 

Cowley, 

00.  Yet  haply  there  will  come  a  weary  day, 
When,  over-task'd  at  length, 


Q. 


.*• 


242  I 

Both  Love  and  Hope  beneath  the  weight  give  way. 
Then  with  a  statue's  smile,  a  statue's  strength, 
Stands  the  mute  sister  Patience,  nothing  loth, 
And  both  supporting,  does  the  work  of  both. 

Coleridge. 


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